


The Trapeze Swinger

by gremlinteeth



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape, Attempted Sexual Assault, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Kidnapping, Love/Friendship, Love/Hate, Mental Health Issues, Phase Four (Gorillaz), Phase One (Gorillaz), Phase Three (Gorillaz), Phase Two (Gorillaz), Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Poverty, Sexual Tension, Smut, Tusspot Fairgrounds, Violence, Will update tags as I go along probably, drug overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-02-17 11:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 141,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13075692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gremlinteeth/pseuds/gremlinteeth
Summary: Him. 2D. I could see him even now, his goofy grin while holding the water gun like a hunting rifle, lining me down the sight. His hands ruffling my hair, one eye closed in a squint as if sizing me up, as if looking into the sun.------------------------------The year is 2003. Five months have passed since Gorillaz ended things terribly in a rented Hollywood Hills mansion after their movie deal was dropped. 2D is working at his fathers funfair in Eastbourne, collecting ticket stubs when he's not out prowling the streets with newfound friends to find the next lucky lady he'll leave lonely after a one night stand.For Sloane McLeod, Tusspot Fairground is a chance for her and her brother Lou to start over after a run-in with the law back at home. Her plan is to lay low and turn up for work on time. Lou's the one who'll cover the wheeling and dealings, she's just gotta make sure she's around to keep him out of trouble, meaning no distractions. Especially not blue haired ones that come with black eyes and an adorably gap-toothed smile.





	1. 1

_Spring, 2003_

The early morning air was yet to burn off its winter chill as the coach pulled into the Brighton station bus terminal, its headlights bright beacons catching in the mist. Lou bounced on the balls of his feet beside me, hands fisted deep in the pockets of his overcoat.

"Thank fucking Christ, I thought I was gonna die of hypothermia before this radge cunt showed up," he muttered, his breath hanging suspended in the frigid air. Despite my frozen nose and cheeks I couldn't help but smirk at his outburst, but quickly wiped it from my face as the bus doors clattered open to reveal a scowling driver.  
The man's considerable paunch sat so swollen on his lap that his arms had to strain to reach the steering wheel. Flicking a quick glance at Lou, my heart jolted as I realised his mouth was opening to make a comment. He emitted a muffled sound of indignation as I slapped a hand across his mouth to stop him, grinning angelically up at the driver. The man's scowl eased slightly at this, then increased tenfold as Lou sprung lithely up the steps of the bus, flashing our tickets up from out of the navy folds of his coat.  
They were snatched from his hand and scrutinised closely, Lou standing with his hands folded neatly behind his back like a pleasant private school boy awaiting instruction. 

"I'm sure you'll find everything's in order," he cheerily assured the driver with his best shit-eating grin. Unamused, the portly man grudgingly scanned the tickets before nodding us onboard. Shouldering the holdall of our collective belongings I practically scuttled past him as I followed Lou up the aisle, shaking my head in exasperation as he skipped down to to the backseat. 

The bus rumbled into life once more, pulling out of the shelter and rejoining the 5am traffic that was already beginning to leak onto the A27. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as I watched the city roll away, replaced by long stretches of grass and trees. Holdall at my feet, head resting on the windowsill, I could feel the pull of sleep finally calling to me after the nightmare of the past 48 hours. 

"Slo, wake up."

Cracking a lead-heavy eyelid, I glared at my older brother with an intensity I hoped equalled that of the disgruntled driver. 

"Aw come on now, none of that," Lou teased gently, using his cold hand to pretend to try and smooth out the frown lines on my forehead, "The wind will change and you'll look like a grumpy old cow forever."

"Thanks to your shite talking radge arse I'm definitely gonna fuckin age prematurely," I retorted, laughing as I batted his hands away, "In which case I'll be looking like a grumpy old cow forever anyhow!"

Lou leaned back to scrutinise my face, pursing his lips as if deeply considering my words, before coming in close to stage whisper, "Aye, I think it's already too late for you: bloody dead ringer for that old geezer up there driving the bus."

Snickering, he ducked to avoid my hand as I attempted to cuff him around the head, before growing suddenly serious. I watched the mirth leave his eyes, leaving them flat and grey in the morning light.

"I'm sorry about all this, Sloane," he murmured, looking down at his empty hands instead of my face. I jolted at the sound of my full name, unused to hearing anything other than various nicknames and aliases instead. It made my skin prickle with unease, it conjured up memories better forgotten. 

"Sorry we're leaving Whitehawk? I'm sure as hell not," I deflected easily, shoving him playfully in an attempt to break him from his uncharacteristically somber mood. When it didn't work, my agitation only grew, leaving me no choice but to play my wildcard.

"It was so great of Birdie to get us both a job at that carnival place she's working at," I said casually, watching Lou's face from out the corner of my eye. At the mention of his long-suffering girlfriend, his eyes lit up once more, a crooked smile stretching across his features. As relief flooded through me I continued, "Even with such short notice, she really pulled through for us. Do you reckon you've got yourself a guardian angel?"

"More like a real live angel," he replied dreamily, before adding wryly, "at least as close to an angel that COMART could ever produce."

I sniggered at the mention of our old secondary school, East Brighton College of Media Arts, which had been lazily dubbed "COMART" by the community and threatened closing down multiple times despite intentions of grandeur from the local council. Lou had left the place several years before I finally finished last year, but he'd taken the ethereal Birdie with him and they'd never looked back.  
Even as I internally laughed at my brothers dopey love-drunk expression, I caught myself smiling along with him at the thought of the waif-like girl with perpetually bare feet. It'd only been a month since she moved out of our squalid shared flat on the estate, but we'd both missed her terribly. I closed my eyes, imagining how nice it'd be to hear her light breathy laugh again as she tried to plait the thick mess of dark knots that was my hair. 

Leaning against the shuddering windowpane of the bus, the sounds of traffic melted into comfortable white noise as I felt sleep finally pull me under and into pitch black.

\---------

Tusspot Fairgrounds was already a hive of activity by the time the coach slowed to a brake-squeaking stop at its wrought iron gates. Carnival employees were helping to back a supply van through the entryway, yelling instructions and gesticulating wildly to the increasingly stressed driver craning his neck to see through his rear window. Between the bars of the fence I could see an unlit carousel being cleaned, unglamorous and almost dingy in the stark daylight. A popcorn stand was having fresh corn kernels poured into it, and further along I was sure for a moment I could see large plush toys being rehung on their sideshow prize hooks. 

Lou saluted the bus driver as he dismounted, whilst I offered what I hoped was an appeasing "thank you" before quickly following my brother out and into the sunlight beyond. It was almost blinding after the dimness of the bus, and in the few seconds it took for my eyes to adjust, the boy vanished into the fair. I was left standing alone at the edge of that alien world, blinking dazedly and wondering if I could do this after all.

_I want to go home._

The thought surfaced from beneath the six feet of earth I'd tried to bury it under, taking hold of my heart and squeezing before I could force it back. There was no home to go back to, at least not one that was safe. I could see it in my minds eye from when I'd gone to collect our things last night: picked over by police, then ransacked by our vulturelike neighbours. The darker patch on the wall where the TV should have been, the broken plates scattered across the linoleum kitchen floor.  
I shook my head angrily to try and push the thoughts from my head, breathing deeply before looking back to the hustle and bustle beyond the gates. I had to do this, there was no other choice. The only choice I had was how I dove into it all; weak and unwilling, or brave and unyielding. 

_This is for you, Lou._

Head held high, I marched through the fairground gates like a soldier going to war. My trainers felt light on the lush grass, the freshly cropped blades springy underfoot. Dodging past some employees unloading supplies boxes in their yellow and red striped uniform shirts, I followed the grassy main walkway in search of my wayward brother. It felt tiresomely typical of him to run on ahead, but unusual that he hadn't reappeared with a scout report on whether or not the coast was clear. A flash of what was possibly the same navy as Lou's overcoat caught my eye on my far right, and I turned my head sharply to follow the sight as I strode forward -- and straight into something. 

My knee connected first, followed closely by the side of my head smashing full force into a hard warm wall. 

"Oof!" Exclaimed the wall, as my momentum sent us both toppling earthward, landing in a tangle of flailing limbs. 

Not a something then; a someone. Whoever it was let out a faint groan of pain, muffled against my shoulder as they lay dazed beneath me. I could feel the sound vibrating in the bony cavern of their ribcage from where my hips pressed against it. A kind of hysterical urge to laugh bubbled up my throat, alongside a guilt-ridden embarrassment which lit my cheeks up scarlet.  
Scrambling to my feet in panic I turned to see a boy sprawled belly-up on the lawn, eyes scrunched closed in pain as his hands moved up to rub the bruised back of his bright blue-haired head. I couldn't help but stare for a moment at the unexpected dye job before I offered a bashful hand towards his prone form.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to knock you over... or fall on you. Or elbow you in the head. None of the above really," I rambled, internally screeching at myself for sounding so utterly lame and tongue-tied. My hand wilted in an awkward wait for a response as the blue haired boy massaged his temples for a few moments, eyes still closed as if in pain. Then they opened, the lids lifting to reveal only black beneath, his chin jutting up as he looked towards me. An electric current spiked through my body, jerking it like a puppet in response. The proffered hand flinched, and I felt shame hot and burning on my cheeks as the boy noticed, wincing at my reaction. Breathing deeply through my nose in an attempt to calm the jittering embarrassed nerves suddenly alive in my stomach, I smiled widely at him before reaching forward and taking his hand in both of mine, having to strain hard as I helped pull him to his feet. Once upright, he towered over me by almost an entire foot. His limbs were lanky on his wiry build, posture slouched. The boy offered me a grateful smile in return, and I tried to remain outwardly nonchalant as I saw that several of his teeth were missing, the most prominent ones being his two front incisors. The effect created was what looked like the grin of a gap-toothed child who'd just proudly lost their first few baby teeth. 

Unsure what to say, I managed to stutter a repeated, "I-I'm really sorry," looking at first the sky and then my own dirty shoes to avoid having to look into the strange black abyss that filled the entirety of his eyes. Feeling like an arsehole, I finally managed to look at his face again to add, "I really need to learn to look where I'm going."

"S'awright, I'm kind of prone ta accidents," he assured me with a sheepish grin, waving a hand as if to bat away the apology. Blinking once in surprise at the clumsy wavering lilt of his voice, I found myself smiling genuinely back. Standing almost toe to toe with the strangely striking boy, warmth flickered alight somewhere in the pit of my stomach; a candle wavering golden in the darkness down there. My cheeks went hot at the sudden sensation, unsure exactly as to why. So far, in every way possible, he had defied expectation. Trying to interact with him was like walking down a hallway whilst the rug was repeatedly yanked out from under your feet.  
His dark eyes watched me for a moment longer, before he outstretched one long arm to offer me his hand to shake, mouth opening to speak.

"Nice t'meet you anyway though, I'm -"

"Stuart!"

The deep male voice cut him off as it rang out across the grass boulevard, the two of us whirling to see a tall bespectacled man striding towards us, followed closely by Lou and Birdie. Suddenly self conscious at the close proximity the blue haired boy and I shared, I took a large step back so as to stand skulking as they reached us. I could feel the prickle of my brother's gaze as it flicked between the boy and I, his jaw setting as he decided something.

"As I was saying, Lou, you'll be helping Stuart here on The Switchback Ride," the man informed my brother, clapping a familiar hand on the other boy's narrow shoulder, "Stuart collects the customer ticket stubs. He was in charge of operating the ride but there was an incident -"

"Well 'ello then! Lou, wassit? Great to meet ya," Stuart interrupted, his voice squeaking in his enthusiasm to silence whatever was about to be said. Offering a hand, he flicked a particularly dour glance at the older man before he added, "I'm 2D."

One of Lou's brows raised at the conflicting new name, lips curling into a smirk.

"But you look so three dimensional," my brother sighed, feigning confusion, "These damn eyes, always messing me around with that depth perception shite."

Birdie stamped down hard on his foot, pale face remaining deceptively impassive. Lou grinned in response, loving that he'd gotten a rise out of her. In an exaggerated show, he looked back into the other boy's black eyes, before miming a gasp.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry, I guess you wouldn't know what depth perception is like," he gushed, before the facade broke, replaced by a wide grin as Lou finished finally, "since you have those holes where your eyes should be."  
               I felt my cheeks go red hot in shame at the needlessly cruel joke. Lou turned from 2D to smile charmingly at the man he'd arrived with, a shining halo of pretend innocence almost visible above his head. The older man half-smiled back, unaware his employee had just been the butt of a cruel joke. Hands in pockets and shoulders rounded, I snuck a glance at the lanky boy beside me. He looked bored, eyes half lidded as he took in Lou's jibe. They both sized each other up, tension hanging like static in the air between them. The older gentlemen glanced at them both with concern across his kindly features before his gaze finally fell on me.

"Oh, and you must be Sloane then? I'm Mr Pot, proprietor of Tusspot Fairground," the older man carried on obliviously,  gesturing to me with a large hand whilst the other scratched at the widows peak of his thinning brunette hair, "Stu- ah I mean, 2D, I'd introduce you to Sloane over here, but it appears you've already met. Sloane is Lou's younger sister."

At the labelling of me as a blood relative of the boy who'd just insulted someone with no provocation, I felt my stomach sink. 2D was going to think I was some sort of an arsehole now for sure, as if callousness were a genetic trait. He'd never smile at me or want to shake my hand again, the thought of which left me aching without knowing exactly why. Confused at my own irrational fretting, I tried desperately to regain some sort of grip on reality. Why should it matter if some random carnival worker thought I was an arsehole? Lou was all I had in the world, for as long as I could remember it had always been that anyone who had a problem with my belligerent brother had a problem with me. Yet here I was, for the first time in my life uncomfortable over the association due to the presumed opinion of a perfect stranger. It made no sense; I couldn't afford to make friends here, couldn't afford to form attachments when so much was at stake.

_You're here to watch Lou's back, not waste time with temporary distractions. Snap out of it._

The savage inner voice felt like a slap, and I glanced up to see 2D had ceased his testosterone fuelled staring competition with my brother and was now instead looking at me once more, the gap-toothed grin back in place. His hand reached out and took mine before I could offer it, enclosing warmly around my slender fingers like a glove. He shook it gently from side to side, studying my dazed expression with faint bemusement while I tried to smother the soft glow that had begun behind my sternum.

It occurred to me only once he'd let go how hard it was going to be to stay focused.


	2. 1.1

Mr Pot proceeded to spend the rest of the morning before the fairground opened showing Lou and I around. Birdie skipped along beside my brother all the while, long hair flapping behind her like a ginger banner. Every now and then she'd excitedly turn to me as I lagged behind, pointing out various attractions as either good, not good or "really very shit".  
Whilst Lou shot the breeze with our new boss, I scouted the site like enemy terrain: entries, exits, weak points in the fence, and hiding holes.  
After being shown how to operate The Switchback ride, a figure eight of rails which provided the twisting chaotic track for five carts to race around, Mr Pot only had to turn and point to the opposite side of the grassy walkway to introduce me to my new site of employment.

A sideshow booth of slowly rotating clown heads sat before me, their mouths open as if performing a perpetual gasp. A deflated balloon emerged from the top of each ones brightly painted skull, matching the colours of the rifle-shaped water guns lined up along the front of the stand. My eyes traced the curly font emblazoned in hot pink across the top of the booth which read "Quick-Shot Clown Pop", unable to contain the smirk which spread across my face at the terrible name.

Glancing over to Lou to see a matching grin, I felt the last stray remnants of shame over our kinship from earlier melt away.

"Your shift begins at 9am, for restock, set up, and maintenance duties. Sideshow booths open at 10am along with the entry gates for the start of the carnival day, whereas rides begin at 11am," Mr Pot was intoning gravely, as if the punctuality of a funfair attraction was a matter of life and death. I schooled my face into one of seriousness as the man continued, "Likewise, the sideshow closes at 8pm, and rides at 9pm. We lock the gates to the public at 9:30pm sharp, however there is an employee door located to the side of the main entrance which can be accessed after hours."

He handed over a set of three keys to us both, one newly cut steel and the other two tarnished as they rattled against each other on the keyring. I clipped them onto one of the belt loops of my faded jeans while I tried to pay attention as Mr Pot demonstrated elaborately how to set up the Quick Shot Clown Pop booth every morning, which included a restock of the plush prize toys and a maintenance check of the water guns.

Feeling momentarily lost on the connection between the balloons and rest of it all, I couldn't catch myself before I blurted out, "Uh, sorry to interrupt but I was just wondering how the game actually worked?"

Mr Pot turned from where he'd been lovingly rearranging the hanging toys into their respective colour groups, meticulous hand paused in mid-action. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepened as he smiled warmly at me, seemingly delighted at my interest.

"Don't be sorry, love! It's an important question to ask," he assured, crossing the booth to my side as he continued, "You see, these water pistols have hoses attached to them that are rigged up to a water main below the booth. When the trigger is pulled, it releases a small but highly pressurised stream of water which the shooter needs to aim into the mouth of the clown. Only a shot going at a straight angle into the clowns mouth will hit the hidden button at the back to release air into the balloon atop its head."

As he talked, he pointed with one large hand to the different parts in turn whilst his other rested on my shoulder in what I supposed was meant to be a supportive way. So far I had liked Mr Pot with his childlike enthusiasm for the fairground and in-depth explanations, so I tried not to let him see my discomfort at the touch. Beneath his hand, the skin began to prickle as if hundreds of ants scuttled across it. My jaw clenched involuntarily.

"That doesn't seem so hard," I managed to comment through gritted teeth, gesturing to the clowns. This earned me a chuckle from the middle-aged man before he patted me twice on the sharp bony ridge of my shoulder and thankfully released me from the agonising physical contact.

"It's harder to win than you'd think," Mr Pot said knowingly as he led us further towards the back of the carnival.

Returning to my place at the rear of our small party, I absentmindedly massaged the hot skin of my shoulder through my windbreaker. Under my fingers the red nylon felt worn and rough, the stitching coming loose on one of the three white stripes down the sleeve.

"Are you okay, Slo?"

Although it was soft and airy, the sound of Birdie's voice so suddenly close to my ear made my heart slam in my chest, violently shaking me my reverie. She looked concerned, all doe-eyed and expectant as she walked beside me through a maze food stalls at the end of the main walkway. I opened my mouth to say I was fine, only for the words to stick in my throat as I realised it would've been a lie. Unable to answer, I instead glanced left and right as Mr Pot led us between a barbecue hut and a fresh juice stand, eyes tracking the workers as they started heating the blackened grills.

"I just need a fag," I finally sighed, before noticing Birdie's stricken expression and laughing as I rushed to correct myself, "A cigarette, I mean. Sorry Birdie, but you know what I grew up hearing."

My laugh hiccuped and then faded at the thought of my mum, stealing the warmth from me for the second time that day. I felt the chill settle into the very marrow of my bones as the image of the woman flashed up all shaky and flickering inside my head, a projector displaying film footage very much out of date. The smoke from her cigarette coiling up towards the ceiling of the living room, her slender fingers tapping to ash into the overflowing tray perched on the arm of the sofa.  
She'd had one between her lips the day they took her away. I couldn't remember the expression on her face, just the tremble of the glowing stick in her mouth.

As if sensing my thoughts, Birdie gently reached out to tuck a lock of ragged hair behind my ear, taking my hand in hers. I offered her a weak smile before tuning back in to Mr Pot's grand tour just as we reached a long wooden fence that had been painted brightly with carnival scenes. There was a hinged door marked "Employees Only", which squeaked as it opened under the pressure of the man's palm.

"... and here is where you'll be staying. Birdie explained to me you'd need accomodation while working here, so it was arranged that some of your wages would be retained as rent for you to live onsite," Mr Pot was explaining as we followed him through the doorway and into what could only be described as a small trailer park. Caravans sat slouched on either side of a winding driveway, washing flapping on makeshift clothes lines in the wind. It was deserted, all the employees already out for the day, yet something about the dark windows into each trailer made me feel watched.

"Isn't it great?" Birdie whispered to Lou and I, brown eyes lit up with excitement as she took in our reactions. Lou offered me a sheepish grin whilst I could only narrow my eyes in response, brow furrowing. When Lou had told me the plan for coming out here to Eastbourne, there had been no mention we'd be living in a fucking caravan. For some reason I'd assumed we'd be crashing with Birdie at her grandma's place, and the realisation that this was not the case left me scrambling to catch up with the situation at hand.

Walking up the dusty gravelled drive behind Mr Pot, I breathed deeply through my nose as I tried to crush back the tide of homesickness that threatened to engulf me. If I let myself be lost in that bitter swell I'd drown, with Lou choking in the salty water alongside me.

At the very top of the drive, before it curved back around to the entrance, Mr Pot stopped. With a flourish, he gestured to the 70s style curve-topped trailer sitting slightly crooked in front of us. It's two porthole windows looked like eyes, the spiderwebs which were crusted around the frames like silvery lashes.

"Welcome to your new home."

\---------------------------

It was only after an hour of paperwork and receiving our mandatory red and yellow striped uniform shirts that Lou and I finally were left alone to explore the cramped interior of the caravan.

As we entered, the strap of our bag digging red raw into my shoulder, the first thought that came to me was one of claustrophobia. Looking around skeptically, I began to map the space with tired scratchy eyes.  
There was a tiny kitchenette adjacent to the doorway, with a beaten up electric kettle and a toaster that had seen better days. Under the sink was a mini fridge, which Lou made the mistake of opening only to find the previous tenant had left half a banana in there, its peel blackened and insides oozing. There was a little booth table with a bench seat that also doubled as a bed, and another skinny bed on the other side of the thin carpeted walkway directly across from it. The end space was reserved for a terrifyingly tiny toilet and shower compartment, closed off from the rest of the space via a narrow lockable door.

Dumping the holdall on the table, I turned to see Lou watching me with an apologetic smile. I tried to smile back, but somehow it got lost along the way and my lips only managed to pull into a grimace. Quickly looking away so he hopefully wouldn't see my disappointment, I began taking our meagre set of belongings from the bag.  
An old and kind of hideous purple ringer tee of mine, the pink collar and sleeve hems faded. Lou's faded and torn red adidas trackpants that had belonged to the same set as the windbreaker I currently wore. Toothbrushes and toothpaste, which the ransackers had kindly left us. The cash stash from the bag of frozen peas in the freezer which luckily neither the police nor our thieving neighbours had found. A pile of clean underwear for Lou, yet only a few pairs for me; all my lacy pairs had worryingly gone missing along with our other clothes by the time I returned to the broken-into apartment. Socks. Soap. A battered Elvis Presley vinyl record, the only one left behind from our mum's collection. Each one was placed tenderly on the left-side bed, a sorry collection of fragments from our old lives. There had been a few other items the thieves had left, but I could only take what I could carry and they hadn't been vital enough to keep. My heart hurt at the thought of those lost pieces of home I could never get back.

"Is this everything?" Lou asked quietly, hand hovering over my shoulder blade as if he'd gone to lay a comforting palm against it and then thought better. I couldn't help but feel relieved.

"I'm sorry," I murmured into the still air, the words cold to my own ears, "the schemie bastards stripped the place. Clothes, jewellery, electronics, even the fucking china; anything they could sell on. You know how it is in Whitehawk; first there is an opportunity, then there is a betrayal."

Lou sighed softly, then moved past me to grab his things from the bed. He shoved them into one of the overhead storage spaces before turning to grin at me.

"Well I'll take this shite bed with the table half covering it," he said, making a show of having to slither his body into the tiny space to lie down along the booth seat. Fully outstretched, his head either had to hang over the end of the foam mattress or his feet had to be propped up on the kitchenette sink. He tried out both options, before opting for an egg-like foetal position. I managed a laugh at his ridiculous antics, my aching heart wrenching at how even despite things he was still trying to make me smile.

"Thanks Lou."

He watched me find places for the rest of our things within the cramped caravan, before I ran some water into the kettle and clicked it on to boil. I could sense he was stewing over something, the same way you knew a pot had begun to boil from the wafts of steam that were filling the air. Any second now he was going to blurt it out, any second -

"So what were you and the boss's son havin' a blether about?"

 _Huh?_ I turned to him, genuinely confused. We both looked at each other quizzically for a moment before he explained further.

"Mr Pot's son? That two-named radge with no eyes?" Lou prompted, watching my face as I fumbled confusedly with what he was saying. _No eyes? Fuck, does he mean 2D?_  
Of course he meant 2D I realised, feeling again that odd flickering warmth at the mere thought of the strange blue-haired boy. Glumness rose to dampen the flame as I finally registered what my brother had just said. 2D was Mr Pot's son? It made sense; the familiarity of their contact, even 2D's sullen look aimed at the other man when he was called the wrong name. His birth name? It didn't matter, the simple fact of their relation made the persistent fluttering in my chest a whole new level of Simply Not On. A potential distraction had just turned into a potentially job-endangering distraction, which was too risky to even entertain for a moment. Plus, he knew I was related to the bastard who had said to his face that he had holes instead of... My eyes widened as I realised that Lou had insulted our new boss's son in front of him on our very first day of being hired.

"So you knew they were related when you attempted to start fisticuffs with the boss's son or no?" I finally replied, eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Oh please, I merely made a little joke to put him in his place," Lou snorted derisively, "and as a matter of fact yes I did know the sleazy bastard was related to our boss."

"Why did you need to 'put him in his place' ya bloody radge?" I hissed, my temper beginning to flare.

"I didn't like the way he was lookin at you."

"How could you even tell where the fuck he was looking? The lad's entire eye is fucking BLACK," I exclaimed irritably, fumbling in my windbreaker pocket for my cigarette packet and matchbook. I needed to sleep, could feel the weight of my own exhaustion pressing on my brain and fuelling my anger, yet had to remain awake for the whole working day. We were due to begin our late-starting shifts in 20 minutes, and the only thing that was going to keep me upright until the end of the day was copious amounts of coffee and fags.  
Placing one in my mouth, I went to strike the match to light it only for Lou to reach out and slap my hand, angry himself now.

"Not in here, it'd smell like mum had finally gotten out of jail," he said with a scowl, pointing to the door in his most authoritarian manner, "so you'll be destroying your lungs out there thank you, Slo."

"Fine. Plus, for the record I'll have you know that 2D and I were chatting about how I'm a wanted suspect member of a drug trafficking syndicate at the age of seventeen and how I'm hiding from police in a seaside village fairground," I sneered, smirking at his wounded expression before obeying the instruction and exiting the trailer to sit on the front steps in the spring sunlight. I didn't realise he had followed me out until he spoke from directly behind me, voice flat and dictatorial.

"Look, Birdie told me Mr Pot's son was a real ladies man, bringing a different girl every night back to the carnival for some after hours fun."

Confusion bloomed in me, my hand pausing midway as I went to light my cigarette. The flame that ate away at the lit end of the match wavered expectantly in the air. Without a response, Lou spoke again.

"Stay away from that guy Slo, I don't know what he is but it isn't good news."

The words sat heavy in the air between us as he then turned and re-entered the caravan. I paused a moment longer, watching the match fire before I kissed it to the end of my cigarette and everything went up in flames.


	3. 1.2

The sun was high in the midday sky before the first customer of the day halted in front of the Quick-Shot Clown Pop booth, obstructing my perfect view of 2D as he collected ticket stubs. Not that I'd been watching him or anything. He just happened to be in my direct line of sight, leaning all nonchalant against the safety rail of the Switchback Ride. So far I'd noticed he had a habit of opening and closing his flick comb five times before finally using it to brush back his blue locks in an attempt at a quiff, the strands almost immediately falling back into place as a messy fridge across his forehead. This was usually when a group of giggling girls were approaching, some of whom I'd been disturbed to see even asking him to sign various items for them. The boy seemed perfectly as ease doing this, apart from one particular occasion when a buxom woman had asked him to scrawl his name across her breasts, to which his over-eager exclamation of "yeah awright!!" could be heard clearly across the stretch of grass that separated us.

Blinking to focus on the person so suddenly in my way, I managed a sheepish smile as I quickly straightened up from where I'd been leaning my elbows on the bench top. The man in front of the booth was looking directly into my face expectantly and yet I had no clue what to say for a panicked moment. In a spike of anxiety at his uncomfortable eye contact, I blurted the first thing that came to my head.

"Wanna see if you got what it takes to shoot a clown straight in it's head?" asked him in a fluster, before clapping a hand over my mouth in horror as I realised in my panic to greet the customer I'd let my accent thicken absurdly, the words coming out sounding more like: "Wannae see if ye goat what it takes ta shoot a cloon straight innits heid?" The man looked momentarily alarmed, the ticking gears inside his skull almost visible as they grasped for a translation to my warped Scottish tongue. Then he smiled thinly while shaking his head, trotting quickly off in the opposite direction.   
Sighing, I tugged uncomfortably at the collar of the too large uniform shirt and tried to calm my breathing.

_You can do this, just keep cool. At least no one else heard -_

"What the fuck was that?" Lou asked loudly through hysterical laughter, appearing so suddenly at the side of the booth window that I almost shrieked in surprise. Our fight earlier in the day clearly forgotten, he had tears in his eyes as he wheezed, "I haven't heard you talk like that since you were a nine year old wee Scottish felly."

I couldn't help but laugh too, even as I tried to growl, "Look it just slipped out okay, ya radge," then, becoming aware I was still using the slang of our homeland I schooled my voice into neutrality before adding, "I'm a Brit through and through."

"Sure, my little lassie," Lou teased, hands on his knees to catch his breath. I rolled my eyes at the display, making shooing motions with my hands as if I could somehow telekinetically remove him from in front of my booth.

"Why aren't you over there at the ride anyway? You know, doing your job?" I asked irritably, gesturing across the grassy walkway. Lou finally straightened back up at this, still panting slightly before he turned back to face me.

"Oh yeah, some kid threw up on The Switchback and all the ground crew are currently busy so you're honorary maid for this particular mess," Lou smirked, flicking his thumb behind him towards the ride. I narrowed my eyes at the claim in pure disbelief.

"How stupid to you think I am?" I asked him indignantly, to which he only laughed as he pulled something small and black from the top pocket of his employee shirt, waving it smugly in my face.

"Mr Pot gave the order actually; we have nice little blethers on this radio. I told him since you've managed to serve zero customers so far this morning, you'd be more than willing to offer yourself for the job."

_Ah, this is payback._

My frown deepened considerably, but I could do nothing to complain as I slammed the "Be back soon" sign on the bench and kicked open the back door to the booth.

Marching across the grass, a snickering Lou handed me a bucket, sponge and gloves. I snatched them from his hand, playing up my annoyance at the task in order to make him laugh more. Even when it was at my expense, I couldn't help but love the sound of my brother's laugh.   
I watched 2D from behind as I closed the distance between us, my heart thudding in time with my footfalls. Unaware of my presence, he was chatting to a gushing girl who was waiting in line.

"I heard something needs cleaning?" I interrupted, the girl shooting daggers over the blue-haired boy's shoulder at me for daring to steal his attention. 2D began to turn to face me, answering as he did so.

"Yeah uh a kids been sick all over the - oh it's you," he said, a genuinely warm smile spreading across his features as he recognised me, replacing the half-smile he had been offering the other girl, "Hey, knocked anyone down since I last saw you?"

Trying not to let the heat rise to my cheeks, I grinned back despite the voice in my head imploring me to remain detached. I'd just watched him flirt with women all day, and one friendly teasing phrase was enough to make me blush? I had to try harder to keep aloof.

"Not yet, but it's only 12:30," I replied breezily, "So where's the puke?"

"Compartment four, the green one. Be sure ta put those gloves on, I dunno what this kid ate but it stinks somefink awful," 2D informed me, propping himself up on the fence with one hand so he could lean on it while facing me. I couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt as the girl behind him pouted as she realised she'd been completely forgotten.

"Aye, gloves on for sure," I agreed to his advice, pulling the thick yellow latex over each of my hands in turn. Realising the blue-haired boy was leaning against the ride gate, i stepped closer as a cue for him to shift out of the way. His black eyes tracked my movement, held tilting downwards so as to maintain the eye contact even as his mouth parted slightly in surprise at my sudden proximity. When he didn't move, I felt a flicker of butterfly-winged nerves take flight in my stomach, and cleared my throat to try and distract him from noticing the tell-tale pink that was flushing up my cheeks.

"Either move over or bend over," I told him, pulling the glove tight against my left pointer finger with an audible rubbery snap, as if I were a doctor about to perform an invasive examination.  
2D visibly swallowed, emitting a small yelp as he dodged out of my way. I smiled widely, pleased with myself for choosing to be defensive over being flustered; tongue sharp and flicking like a knife.

"Don't get too excited Stuart," Lou snickered from behind me as I climbed up the steel steps of The Switchback.

Carriage four glimmered in the sunlight, its neon green sides almost painful to look at. Gingerly opening the compartment door, I was greeted by the stench of bile and the unholy sight of what popcorn and fairy floss looked like post-digestion.   
Screwing up my face at the grotesque display, I set to work trying to scrape the vile mess off the vinyl seats of the carriage. The sudsy water in the bucket quickly became foul and polluted, and I tried not to gag at the thick lumps on my gloves.

By the time I finished I was fair close to vomiting myself, staggering with blurry vision back down the stairs. Lou gently took the bucket out of my hands, patting me on the back as I thudded down the last step onto the grass. Peeling off my gloves and launching them into the ticket bin, I stood for a moment at the gate, holding my guts in with my eyes closed.

"You gonna be sick, little janitor?" 2D teased in that wavering voice I wasn't yet used to, but as I opened my eyes his black gaze was concerned. Unprepared for the genuine display of caring, I felt my face form a weak smile in response before I shifted away quickly with a dismissive wave of my hand.

"I'll be fine as long as I never have to look at popcorn again," I assured him, turning to leave despite the part of me that yearned to stay.

"Well I'll see you around then, just maybe warn me when you're coming."

I smiled despite myself at his last tease, relieved I was facing away so he couldn't see how goofily glowing my face must have looked. I raised a hand in farewell but kept walking, feeling my heart begin to sink as I got closer and closer to my sideshow booth.

Pulling a fag from the packet, I lit it in one deft motion before inhaling deeply. The smoke felt warm as it entered my lungs, the nicotine a welcome rush to my sluggish veins. As I exhaled in a white cloud, I turned back to see 2D still watching me, a smouldering cigarette of his own hanging from his mouth. His lips pursed thoughtfully as he took a drag, before the boy turned to begin taking tickets for the next Switchback ride session, dark ink-like eyes releasing me from their hold.

Without the weight of his gaze against my skin I could only wonder at his thoughts as I was left shivering in its absence.

\---------------------------

The rest of the day passed by without incident, the Quick-Shot Clown Pop booth getting only a few more customers before it was time to close.  
Unhooking the toys that hung from the awning, I shoved them all under the bench with as much patience as I could. An oversized Daffy Duck plush fell out, and I used my foot to kick it back in. The black lanky bird flopped back to the floor. I kicked it again harder, then twice more as it continued to tumble from the storage space. Finally it stayed put, and I breathed an irritated sigh of relief. I signed off on the ticket tally for the day, a grand total of four, then threw the scraps of paper into the bin.  
Rolling down the shutter and pulling the bolt to lock it closed, the small impact had the large Daffy falling back out at my feet, his orange velveteen beak open and gormless, unseeing eyes looking up at me. My jaw set, squinting at the toy.

"So you don't like having to hang out here either huh?" I asked it, before snorting as I realised I was talking to an inanimate object. Crossing to the back door, my hand pressed to push it open before something made me stop. Turning back to the dejected Daffy Duck, a weird sentimentality flooded my exhausted mind. I found myself stooping to pick him up, holding the thing at an arms length. In a voice that was softer than any I could offer a human being I heard myself say, "Come on then, I'll take you somewhere safe."

The lights of the carnival were bright and dazzling as I entered the boulevard, blinking childlike with a Daffy Duck half my height hanging by its neck from my hand.   
Across the lane Lou gestured wildly to me from the control panel of The Switchback ride, and I made my way over sleepily.

"Slo! How was your first day?" my brother greeted me warmly, before his grey eyes fell on the limp Daffy I was holding in a strangling grip and he added dryly, "Grabbed a souvenir already I see."

Refusing to be embarrassed by my liberation of the Loony Tunes character I merely poked my tongue out at him in response.

"Anyway, I finish up this shite in an hour and I gotta talk to you about something so don't run off into town or anything, yeah? Just meet me at the caravan," Lou instructed, shaking his head at my immature gesture. At his mention of needing to speak to me about something, I felt my face close up and become cold.

Something didn't mean anything. Something meant _something_ ; meant business.

_I've finished legal work for the day, now onto the illegal night shift._

I nodded, Lou offering me a cheery wave before turning to start pressing buttons as the next ride session started. Walking off towards the trailer park, I didn't even so much as glance at 2D as I passed him, my mind a chaos of whirling thoughts.

When I was still only a child, my brother had been left to care for us both, something our forever late-coming welfare cheques could never fully cover. He'd been only eighteen, with no family to fall back on, no friends to hear any cry for help. We had one contact, an acquaintance of our mother's who was only too eager to come to our aid.

Mr James DeWitt, with a smile like a crocodile and the charm of a fox. His helping hands outstretched, he'd offered us a place in his kingdom; the ruling drug syndicate of all East Sussex.  
For DeWitt we had dealt cocaine, ketamine and cannabis to the citizens of Whitehawk. He hadn't needed us to peddle any harder drugs, had said he'd rather keep us dealing in only "small fry" as a final favour to our mum.

But that was before Lou had fucked up, before we had been forced to relocate to Eastbourne. Reparations had to be made, and if we were still in business then there'd be no knowing what DeWitt would be asking us to do.

_This is all you are,_ this _is why you can't make friends here._

The world crushed in around me, suddenly too hot and busy with sights and sound. My life was flashing fast behind my eyes, a series of disconnected images forming something overwhelming yet entirely inescapable; my only option had always been to try and survive.  
I broke into a run, vision beginning to blur and smear as tears pricked my eyes. Through the fairground with the lights bright and blinding, the last few late-night patrons all turning their heads to watch as a girl formed of fire sprinted past, clutching desperately to the Daffy Duck cradled in her arms.


	4. 1.3

Despite the drag of the late hours in my ghost town booth, by the third day of work even I could begrudgingly admit just how gorgeous the carnival looked as the lights began to flicker on in time with the setting sun.  
The job had been set; pickup then distribution just as always.  
Waiting by the metal shuttered window of the Quick-Shot Clown Pop, the darkness clung to me like a second skin. Across the way was all warm and glowing lights, bright neon with old-fashioned carnival music drifting through the night air. It seemed miles away; the only light emitted from my shadowy corner was an ember-tip that flared with every inhalation.   
                   I watched Lou holding Birdie's hands on the buttons of The Switchback control panel, her mouth open in laughter as her puppeteer used them to operate the ride. Something about the sight ached, some kind of gloriously sweet sadness about the two of them melting honey-gold into the brightness of the fairground. Lou with calloused knuckles and a knife in his back pocket, Birdie with clover flowers tucked behind each ear.

My thoughts drifted, gaze wandering to the blur of the full moon behind it's veil of clouds. A night for doing bad deeds.

"You don't have to come with me, Slo," Lou had murmured two days ago when the call had come. His face was soft but jaw was set, and it was his Brave Face as I'd ever known it; shit-scared but unable to give in to it all.  
                   Faced with that kind of courage, I'd follow him into any fray.

"Of course I'm coming," I'd said, grinning despite the cold claw of fear that hooked itself to my skin, "Just try and stop me."

It was harder to be brave now, about to head off into town to meet DeWitt's local contacts for the drop with no true clue of what we were walking into except that it'd be another deal with the devil; and there was still hell to pay.

The last ride of the night was announced, tickets eagerly pressed into the hands of the boy who collected them distractedly. Making my way over, I tried not to watch him as he shuffled them between his hands, the edge of a pink tongue poking from his mouth.  
               All passengers securely strapped in, 2D closed the gate with a clang. My breath hitched slightly as he tugged off his already unbuttoned uniform shirt to reveal the tight fitting white t shirt beneath, tucked greaser-style into black drainpipe jeans.

"Well, I'm awf," he announced, tossing the neat stack of tickets stubs into the waiting bin before stalking towards the fairground entrance. As our paths crossed, the blue-haired boy offered me a nonchalant nod before his long-legged stride carried him from view.

Trying not to pay attention to the twinge of disappointment I felt at his curt acknowledgment, I turned instead to wave up at Birdie from where she was now standing on the railing, arms whirling like the conductor of an orchestra as she traced the motion of the ride compartments. She smiled dreamily in response to my greeting before her attentions flicked back to The Switchback, locks of red hair floating about her face.  
              Lou stood like the proud captain of a ship, breaking in and out of concentration as he simultaneously watched the girl he loved whilst bringing the carriages to their final slow safe stop.

"Thank you ladies and laddies, you've been a wonderful audience," Lou purred into the desk microphone, a hammed up Scottish Elvis Presley.

The three of us waited for the cattle-like line of people to disembark the rattling metal stairs before Lou flicked the power-switch to the ride, plunging our sanctuary of twinkling lights into gloom. The chain clanked and scraped as he locked it around the gate. In the darkness his eyes still seemed to shine as he turned to me, his smile a flash of teeth before he spoke.

"Let's go."

Our small company walked stiffly through the slowly darkening fair, checking pockets for flick knives, cash and cards. Lou checked and rechecked the burn phone with the texted details. Birdie pulled the flowers from her hair, fingers lost in the wavy lengths as she fixed it back in a braid. I chain-smoked until my head began to spin, then lit matches while we waited for the bus into the town proper.   
              I'd gone through three matchbooks by the time it finally rumbled into view.

"Lou, I have every bad feeling about tonight," Birdie murmured into my brothers ear once we were seated at the back of the bus. Her wide brown eyes flicked between us both, face paper white under the fluorescents.

"Hey now, DeWitt doesn't do dealings with wildcards," Lou assured her, kissing the girl above each eyebrow before drawing back to meet her worried gaze, "If he's sent us to meet these guys then it's all good."

They continued to talk in whispers for the rest of the bus ride, but I tuned them out, instead focusing my attention on the view of Eastbourne that flashed past the window. We were walking into this on the assumption of whether or not a drug-lord still felt he owed our mother a debt. Despite wanting to trust Lou when he said it'd all be fine, a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that Birdie was right.

 

Although it would have been a gruellingly long walk, it was still only a short ride to the McDonalds at the centre of town. Lou kissed Birdie goodbye, cupping her delicate face in one of his hands before motioning for me to follow him as he stood, pulling the cord to signal he wanted to disembark. I tried not to fall over as the bus rolled to a stop, hot on my brother's heels as he strode down the aisle and jumped out onto the street. Turning, he mock-bowed to the bus driver before marching off across the shadowy McDonalds carpark, lit by a single streetlamp.

"We're to wait here under the lamp so they can check it's us before approaching, then we go 'round back for business," Lou instructed, despite having outlined the plan to me several times previously. He was nervous, I could tell, and his nerves only managed to feed the growing fear that ate away at the lining of my stomach.

"Lou, do you think it's safe to do this deal?" I whispered, looking across the dark parking lot with growing trepidation, "I mean last time..." I trailed off when his mouth twisted in discomfort as I brought up last week's events, the light directly above us catching silvery in the eyelashes of his downcast gaze.

For what seemed a long time we stood like that, with only the sounds of the nearby traffic and the scraping of the night wind pulling dried winter leaves across the concrete. I watched the comings and goings of the McDonalds itself through the brightly lit windows, scanning for the possible DeWitt contacts. Lou watched the road, grey eyes flicking to follow the cars as they flashed past. It was the most normal thing I felt we had done in days; this tag-team surveillance before a deal. Despite how strange I knew the feeling was, I couldn't help but feel in my element as I noted a trio of teenage boys exiting the fast food outlet, arms laden with grease-spotted paper bags, quickly sketching them in my mind before storing the image away. Their beaten up sedan backfired as they revved it hard to pull out of the carpark, causing me to jump back in fright.

"You should've brought your daft duck along to cuddle so ya didn't get scared," Lou teased, sounding decidedly more chipper now that I had supplied him with a distraction from the impending deal.

"It's _Daffy_ Duck ya doaty bastard," I huffed in response, rolling my eyes at his gloating expression as I fell for the bait. The boy had been teasing me repeatedly about the plush toy ever since our first day, despite the fact he seemed to like it even more than I did; using it to act out scenes from his day to birdie and I, as well as leaving it in strange locations for me to find, the latest of which had been sitting on the caravan toilet with an open magazine balanced on it's gangly orange legs.

"Aye, but it just looks so daft with that big open mouth an' empty eyes," Lou explained, before adding in a snigger, "Looks a bit like that dopey radge they got me workin with."

I instinctively opened my mouth to snap a fierce reply in 2D's defence before I managed to stop myself, clamping it back closed with a wince. Lou smirked in response, knowing he was close to getting a reaction. Lowering his voice, he tried again for the punchline.

"Hey Slo, do you reckon that's what the two D's are that he's named after?" he asked, eyes wide and feigning innocence. I cocked my head, confused by the sudden question.

"Huh? The two D's?" I queried, genuinely unsure as to what he was getting at. Lou grinned catlike as he responded.

"Yeah, 2D. The two D's being for _D_ aft _D_ uck."

Unable to help it, a giggle escaped me, followed by an expletive aimed towards the self-satisfied boy. I was about to complain loudly about his abuse towards our blue-haired fellow employee when someone cleared their throat to our left. We both turned in unison, Lou's hand flying to his back pocket where his flick knife was tucked away whilst I shifted my weight to the right, ready to run at a moment's notice.  
               Two young men stood side by side just a couple of meters from us, bodies slouching and casual. The taller of the pair sported an entirely buzzed head similar to Lou, but with carefully faded edges that signalled it had been professionally done. His nose was ever so crooked along the wide bridge, eyebrows thick and unruly over hooded eyes that sized us up from afar. The shorter man was blonde and slightly chubby, as if he hadn't quite yet lost his baby fat, large ham-hock arms crossed over his chest. Unlike his dark-skinned companion this man was ruddy pink in comparison, rather like raw chicken.

"Tch tch, a bit jumpy I see," the taller man jeered, before he jutted his chin towards Lou, "You the McLeod kid?"

I could feel Lou bristle beside me from the age jibe, but he only smiled charmingly as he asked, "Who'd like to know?"

His response caused the blonde meaty man to unfurl is arms and step threateningly closer, but the taller man put a hand out to stop him, his teeth hyper-white in the deep tan of his face as he laughed.

"DeWitt said you had a mouth on you," the tall man said, nodding as if confirming something with his partner, "Let's get off the street front."

The two turned and walked leisurely into the darkness, clearly expecting us to follow. My heart squeezed as I turned my head to look wild-eyed at Lou, only to find he had already begun to follow them. He caught my trembling hand in his own as he passed me, using the pad of his thumb to beat out a rhythm against my knuckles before releasing it as he moved out of reach. The limb swung limply back to my side, and it was only my fear for Lou that inspired my body to move itself from that pool of light and into the darkness that awaited me.

Despite the seemingly casual pace they walked at, the three men's legs were much longer than mine and they quickly left me as a straggler trying surreptitiously to catch up. Opting for a not-quite power walk, I trailed the group across the car park and towards the restaurant building, scanning the area as I did.   
                   That had always been my assigned job on previous deals; sentry duty while Lou paid attention to the business. It had gotten us out of plenty of close calls in the past, times when a client had thought we'd be easy to roll if they brought in a friend to take us from behind, or police had been patrolling nearby. However this felt different, more rushed with less confidence. My heart was beating too fast to concentrate properly, last week's memory of the sirens and the yelling men bursting into my consciousness and leaving me gasping for air. There'd be blue and red lights everywhere and I'd be sprinting from them and screaming for Lou and we'd have to run and run and run all night with the sirens in the background and the world disappearing out from under us.

_Calm down, breathe. Just breathe._

Inhaling deeply, I reached into my pocket for my packet of fags as I rounded the corner of the building. Rummaging to remove one from the packet, I glanced down momentarily towards the inhibiting folds of red nylon.  
            The distraction was a mistake. I knew this even as I came around the corner, before I looked back up to see Lou pinned to the wall by the tall man, knife to his throat and mouth covered with a hand. My brothers eyes were blown wide, his warning cry muffled as I was grabbed roughly from the side, neck cracking with the whiplash as the tall man's hoggish companion slammed me to the rusted dumpster at the other side of the back alley. With my head almost hanging backwards over the dented rim, the putrid reek of rotting food coiled up to my nostrils and I tried not to gag against the large thick fingers tightening around my throat. Kicking out savagely I caught my attacker in the groin and shin, causing him to grunt in pain and drop me momentarily. Even as I turned to run he snatched me back by the collar of my jacket, slamming me back against the dumpster with a sadistic sneer. 

"Try somefin' loik that again, and we slit yah bruvva's throat. Understand?" The man hissed, jerking his head towards where his companion held Lou to the wall. I could see the glint of the blade at his throat collecting the dim moonlight, the indent of where the blade kissed the skin not yet hard enough to split it. My heart hammering in my chest, I nodded slowly, carefully arranging my expression into one of blank calm.

"We didn't get to formally introduce ourselves before," the taller of the pair announced, still smiling charmingly as if he didn't have someone at knifepoint, "I'm Rem, and my associate over here is Sticks."

Lou said something muffled from beneath Rem's hand, and the man who held him captive removed his palm so that he could repeat it.

"What the fuck kind of a name is 'Sticks'?"

The thug in question whipped his head around to glare at my brother, face twisting up in irritation. Lou grinned even as the blade at his throat dug in harder. Little beads of blood begun to seep along the silver edge, starkly crimson in the low light.

"It's loik fucken Sticks an stones will break yah bones," Sticks explained aggressively, to which Lou only laughed.

".... but words will never hurt me? Jesus wept, did ya come up with that one on the bus to school?" He snickered, before the sight of Sticks's meaty hand tightening around my neck cut his laugh dead, "The fuck you radge cunts want?"

Rem forcefully shoved his hand back over Lou's mouth at the sound of his raised voice, reasserting control. 

"You really are the Motormouth McLeod we've heard so much about," he jeered, before glancing at me and adding, "Which would make you the infamous Mute McLeod."

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes, meeting his gaze flatly until the man looked away. Lou said something muffled in response which I was certain could only have brought us further reprimand, and I silently thanked the universe that Rem had his hand over the snarky boy's mouth.

"Now, DeWitt told us to meet you two here for a supply drop off tonight, which you're gonna distribute throughout the West and South sides of Eastbourne, got it?" Rem continued, keeping his eyes trained on Lou whilst Sticks watched me, his face close enough for me to feel each hot puff of his fetid breath against my cheeks.

"Mistah DeWitt also tol' us that yew two made some trubble for 'im back in Brighton," Sticks sniggered, smirking as he let his gaze slither down my body, while I could only clench my jaw in revulsion.

"Yes, DeWitt told us we had to make sure you'd learned your lesson," Rem agreed, "So that there'll be no more mistakes this time."

"Last chance 'e said," Sticks added, smiling wide with yellowed tombstone teeth. I tried not to gag at the sight.

"DeWitt said we weren't to rough you up too bad, Motormouth," Rem explained cordially, before his eyes went icy cold as he finished, "But he said we could do what we like to your sister over there."

My stomach dropped sickeningly, gaze flicking to Lou's face even as his widening eyes met mine. Grey on grey, both full of fear until I closed my eyes against the image. I breathed deeply through my nose, collecting myself once more.

_Do not show them you're afraid. Lou is gonna get you out of this, just like always. Stay calm._

It was easier said than done, my heart jolting forwards as Sticks lifted a blade to my face. It looked like a hunting knife, with nasty ridges along the glinting edge of it, and it took everything in my power to keep from whimpering as he laid the flat of it in a cold line from my left eyebrow to the corner of my mouth. Lou bellowed something indecipherable from beneath Rem's forceful palm, struggling against the other man in an effort to intervene.

"Do ya fink she'll be as pwetty once I carve mah name into 'er face?" Sticks asked, turning to grin sadistically at Lou, "Won't be as funny then will it bruv?"

Lou jerked in Rem's grip, heedlessly pushing forward even as the knife cut deeper against his vulnerable Adam's Apple. 

"No! Lou!" I cried out, my voice pitching into almost a shriek as I whipped a halting hand out towards him, as if I could somehow push him back from the blade. All three men jolted in surprise at my violent outburst, Lou shooting me a questioning look whilst the other two were distracted. I gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and he sunk defeated back against the bricks.

"Well fancy that, Mute McLeod can speak!" Rem sneered, recovering quickly. His hand that had once muzzled Lou was now restraining the restless boy lest he try to struggle again, which my brother was quick to take advantage of.

"Please, just let her go. It was my fault, it was me who dealt to the undercover cop, not her," Lou pleaded, all trace of the usual airy sarcasm gone from his voice. I almost flinched at the desperation, but I couldn't let myself show even a flicker of weakness. My mouth was dry with terror as Sticks laughed nasally at my brother's begging, pressing the blade harder against my face. I could feel the skin beginning to split under the force, but refused to even so much as wince.   
                 I had to be brave now, if only to keep Lou from killing himself to try and save me. My entire life thus far the boy had always managed to keep me from harm, always been able to talk or fight his way out of a situation gone southward. Together we'd run along walls and leap into back gardens, him lifting me over to the other side first, always first, so that he always remained as a human shield between the world and me. He knew no fear if it meant protecting me from harm, and it was because of this that I had no idea how to be as brave as I needed to be right now.

_Just be Lou then._

"Don't worry about it Lou, this radge cunt isn't carving his name into my face," I announced breezily, gaining a look of alarm from my brother and indignant rage from the man who held me by the throat.

"An' why's that?" Sticks spat, face looming closer as his narrowing eyes bore into mine.

"Because it's unlikely you can even spell it," I cooed, giving him my best Lou McLeod shit-eating grin before my fist flew up to punch the wrist of his knife-holding hand, jerking it from my face even as I lunged forward with the crown of my skull to headbutt the man straight in his beaky nose.

Crunch.

The back alley exploded into sudden furious motion as Sticks reeled back shrieking, Rem turning his head too late to see the cause of the shrill noise as I fell forward with the momentum and barrelled my entire body into the vulnerable backs of his knees. Long legs giving way, Rem fell backwards into me with a loud grunt as the tendons in his knee joints instinctively retracted from the blow. Lou yelped in surprise as the falling thug's legs were slammed into him, but the knife was clear from his throat and that was all that mattered.   
                Jostling free of the tangle of Rem's thrashing limbs I screamed as loudly as I could to the stunned boy standing above us.

"NOW RUN LOU!"

Breaking from his frozen state he grabbed my outstretched hand, whipping me to my feet even as he began to sprint towards the car park. Sticks lunged for us, his nose a mess of blood and shattered cartilage, but we dodged his grasping hands with the agility of fleeing rabbits.  
                 The soles of my trainers slapped hard at the asphalt of the parking lot as I propelled myself towards the road, hearing the thudding footfalls of Sticks hot on my heels. I began to take sharp shallow breaths, extending the length of my strides so that I was almost gliding as I began to leave him behind. Somewhere to my left Lou raced beside me, keeping pace as we launched from the hedged boundary of the car park and onto the road that waited beyond. Lungs burning, ready to burst and all too empty at the same time, the blood roaring in my ears as the flash of a car entered my peripheral.

"SLOANE!" Lou bellowed but I had already thrown any time to hesitate to the winds that whipped from my jet stream as I sprinted in front of the oncoming car, hearing first Sticks swear venomously as it cut him off then the sound of squealing brakes. I was gonna make it I was gonna come out clear - Thud.  
              Pain reverberated up my body as the very edge of the right-side headlight collided with my hip, sending me flying to the ground in a dizzying twirl. Loose gravel at the edge of the pedestrian island that sat at the centre of the road crunched beneath me as I landed, raking grazes up my arms and tearing holes in the knees of my jeans. I came to a rolling stop at the raised concrete platform meant for safe crossing, ears ringing as I dazedly tried to push myself up.

The car that had nicked me had pulled to a complete stop just ahead, the driver's side door swinging open even as I queasily registered the unmistakable checkering decal along its bumper that signalled exactly who I'd just been hit by.

"Hold still ma'm," the police officer was advising, walking towards me with his palms out placatingly. The two boys stood stock still at the side of the road like deer in headlights. For a moment everything seemed to be moving slow through molasses.

The passenger door of the police car swung open. Sticks bolted, the second police officer yelling out "halt!" to no avail as Lou sprinted in the opposite direction, face bleached white in genuine terror. The cop who had been carefully approaching me jerked his head towards the commotion, and I used the opportunity to launch to my feet, breaking into a clumsy run as my bruised hip protested.

_Not again, not again, not again -_

I heard the man yell out behind me but I was already launching myself down the row of stores on the opposite side of the road, turning to leg it down the side road and over a chainlink fence into the locked down delivery bay of what appeared to be a green grocer. Sirens blared in the distance, and not knowing whether they'd decide to pursue me, Lou or Sticks, I decided the best option was to vacate the area immediately regardless.   
                   Ahead was a stack of empty wooden pallets, clumsily piled at the edge of the compound after they'd been relieved of their produce. Wincing at the ache in my leg I climbed them like rickety stairs, swinging my legs over the mesh fence and then dropping gracelessly down to the other side. Pain shot up the right hand side of my body as I landed hard, jarring the already tender joints.

I was in a back alley that ran from the dead end I now stood in to another road several properties ahead. Unsure if I could handle any more fence jumping in my current state, I opted instead to power walk down the dimly lit lane and hope I wouldn't find two pissed off police officers at the other end.  
               Setting off at a fast limping pace, I unzipped my adidas windbreaker and slipped it off in an attempt to disguise myself slightly, before realising with a sinking feeling that I still wore my Tusspot Fairgrounds employee shirt underneath. That'd be a great move, advertising to law enforcement where the fleeing suspects worked. With a frustrated sigh I turned the jacket inside out to expose the white interior before slipping it back on, hoping it would do. 

As the brightly lit end of the laneway drew near I began to walk in a half crouch, stopping at the corner of a garage to peep out into the street beyond.  
                 Unexpectedly, people walked to and fro along the pavement on either side of the road, coming out of, entering, and loitering to smoke outside the several bars on the street. Across the two lanes of light traffic, I could see a bus shelter shining like a candlelit sanctuary twenty meters down the road. 

_Maybe there truly is a god._

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I looked both ways this time before lightly jogging across the road. Trying my best to look like I wasn't limping, I casually made my way over to the bus stop before sinking gratefully down onto the cold metal bench seat. 

"Please let the bus come soon," I murmured out loud in my best attempt at a prayer, deciding to test out my possible God existence theory. Drawing up my sore legs to my chest, I hugged them to me as I waited.

"Well lewk who it is!" Came a familiar warbling voice, and I decided very firmly that definitely there was no such thing as jesus or his dad granting me good luck because I was sitting with a bruised neck and hip in the foetal position on a bus shelter seat while wearing and inside out windbreaker, and 2D was standing in front of me.  
                      His hair was pushed back and perfectly rolled like a cast-member of the film Grease, save for one stubborn blue lock that trailed onto his forehead. Black eyes half lidded from intoxication, he looked me up and down whilst grinning crookedly. There was a smear of lipstick at his jawline, seemingly belonging to the girl who hung tipsy off his arm, thin fingers vicelike around the narrow circumference of his bicep. I tried not to meet her gaze, knowing from the burning feeling in the side of my head that it definitely wasn't friendly. 

"Who _is_ it?" The girl sniffed, and I chose to look at her beautiful red satin high heels whilst 2D replied.

"It's Sloane all alone," he said, before realising he had accidentally rhymed and snickering to himself. Gritting my teeth at the sound of my full name, I dared to look at the girl's pixie-like face at this news; she didn't look impressed, even less so at 2D's apparently terrible sense of humour.

"... right," she responded, loosening her grip on his arm just a little.

"Why're you all alone, Sloane?" 2D asked in a slight slur, seeming not to notice his companion's falling levels of interest. 

I hugged my bent legs tighter to me instead of answering, feeling incredibly ugly and small as I inspected the raw skin of my knees through the new rips in my jeans. I'd been wearing them all week, having no other trousers to wear, and they smelt of sweat. Somewhere at the back of my mind I hoped he wouldn't notice.  
                     As I watched the blood slowly clot around the grazes in my knees, the boy sat lightly beside me, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I flinched away from the oncoming contact instinctually, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the paleness of his palm as he halted, unsure.   
                     Unfairly relieved, I closed my eyes against the prickling sensation of almost-tears, swallowing back the lump of sentimentality swelling inside my manhandled throat. 

The warmth of his hand against the sharp plane of my shoulder took me by surprise, his fingers gentle as they lightly curled around the bony joint. I waited for it to begin to prickle, for it to burn until I broke into a panicked sweat, but the sensation never came. The inner candlelight I thought I'd successfully snuffed out began to glow under his touch, and for a dizzied moment I couldn't recall the last time I'd experienced another human's touch.  
                   It felt so lovely, tears welling behind the closed lids of my eyes as I leaned into his hand for just a moment, before pulling abruptly away.

"Sloane?" 2D asked quietly, and I blinked furiously to clear my eyes of moisture before I turned to face him. He was frowning with concern, worrying his bottom lip between his gapped teeth.

"Don't call me that," I snapped defensively, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of those heavy-lidded black eyes. He flinched at the harsh tone, and I immediately regretted being hostile. In a softer voice I explained, "Only my mum ever called me 'Sloane'. I prefer pretty much anything else."

"Awright, I get that," the boy said, nodding as his smile returned, "That's kinda like me wiv my name. What do you want me ta call you then?"

Distracted by the unaffected warmth of his grin, I felt the heat starting to rise to my cheeks as I found myself tongue-tied at his question.

"Er... Lo, uh I mean Slo," I tripped over my words, leaning back from him as if it would clear my head. It was no use; the air around him was heavily perfumed with the mixing scents of bourbon and whatever citrusy-smelling soap he used, along with a faint trace of dirty hair. Altogether it left me almost giddy, fighting against the desire to lean in close to breathe more of him in.

"Awright Low Slow, now can you tell me what's goin' on?" 2D asked, poking me in the side as I snickered at his lame attempt to make me laugh.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of us, momentarily sparing me from answering as we both leapt to our feet. The blue haired boy gaped in genuine confusion as he realised his gorgeous date in the red satin heels had left without saying goodbye at some point, looking around like he'd misplaced his keys. I stifled a laugh as he scratched his head in wonder, shuffling in a circle to look for her before climbing utterly perplexed onto the bus behind me.  
                    I didn't have the heart to tell him he should pay more attention to his lovers lest they think he is disinterested, and so instead just patted him sarcastically twice on the back after he plonked himself down dejectedly beside me.

"I fink I'm drunk," he whispered conspiratorially into my ear, and I shivered at the feeling of his breath tickling against my skin. I turned to answer but his gaze was lowered, fixed intently on the skin of my neck. Finally he looked back up to meet my gaze, and  in the fluorescent light I noticed for the first time the slightly darker circle of his pupil within the inky expanse of his eye. His mouth opened as if he were going to speak before it closed once more.

"What?" I asked, raising a brow at his prolonged silence.

"Yer neck is really bruised lewkin'," Was all he said, before he yanked at the collar of his t shirt to reveal a deep purple love bite and added sleepily, "Mine too."

I snorted at his complete misreading of the situation at hand, before his drooping head found a place to rest against my shoulder, feathery eyelashes tickling against the crook of my neck as they fluttered closed.   
                  My breath hitched and I froze under his dozing weight, before I relaxed into a more accomodating position for him. He murmured something sleepily, lips moving against my skin. 

"Hm?" I prompted, heart racing while straining to hear the words. He lifted his head ever so slightly to speak into my ear.

"I said, you smell like dirty laundry."

"Fuck you too, Stuart."

I felt the vibration through his ribcage as he snickered in response, before he fell into a drunken sleep against my shoulder, the world outside the window dark as it flashed by.


	5. 1.4

Tufts of azure blue hair tickled the underside of my jaw as I gently shook 2D by the shoulder, my fingers rumpling the white cotton of his shirt. He grumbled something into the collar of my jacket, a large hand lifting lazily to swat at the cause of the disturbance. 

"Wake up, we've arrived home," I informed the sleeping boy, too tired myself for any more pleasantries. Drunkenly his heavy lids lifted, black eyes squinting up at me from the makeshift pillow of my body.

"Back at Kong awready?" He asked blearily, voice raspy from sleep. Unprepared for his strange question, I could only raise my eyebrows in confusion.

_The boy's so drunk he's talking gibberish._

Pulling him to his feet, I half pushed half guided him down the bus aisle and off the rumbling vehicle. Ahead were the chained and bolted front gates of Tusspot Fairgrounds, with the silent carnival sitting dark and deserted beyond.   
                  I watched as 2D blinked at the sight, at first in confusion and then with weary acceptance, as if he'd only just remembered something important. We stood side by side before the locked gate, a girl with her windbreaker on inside-out and a boy standing in lopsided disappointment I couldn't begin to understand, with the exhaust fumes of the leaving bus hovering in the air around us.

_Please let Lou be safe inside the caravan. Have him lying on the bench seat with the kettle on and gloating about how he has the best escape story to tell me._

Swallowing back the fretful anxiety for my brother, I tried to breathe deeply whilst I steered 2D towards the employee after-hours entrance into the carnival. I hadn't used it before, and was surprised to find it was a caged turnstile door, locked in position until the use of the silver key I had clipped to my belt loop allowed the door compartment to be pushed for one rotation.   
                    I turned my key in the lock and then entered the open section of the circular door, pushing it around until I could exit the other side. The lock clicked back in place as the door completed its rotation, meaning it would have to be re-unlocked for 2D to come through. Turning back to my inebriated companion on the other side of the steel barred security fence, I gestured for him to get out his keys so that he could follow me. Black eyes regarded me blankly, a dopey crooked smile across his face as he tried to comprehend what strange language my hands were speaking as I rattled my keys at him.

"Huh?"

"Unlock the door and come through, ya daft sod," I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief as he patted his body down sleepily before shrugging his shoulders when he found nothing.

"Fine, I'm coming back through," I sighed, wondering why I was bothering helping the dopey drunk in the first place. 

_Maybe because you like him,_ a little voice whispered in the back of my mind, but I crushed it into a tiny ball and kicked it far enough away to not hear any further comments.

2D was swaying on his feet as I pushed my way through the rotating door to join him on the outside, this time grabbing him by the arm and pulling him with me as I unlocked the door once more.   
                   With the lanky boy behind me, the compartment seemed suddenly very tiny; 2D's chest a warm pressure against my back as I began to push the door forwards. Uncomfortably shuffling against each other, I tried not to pay attention to the feeling of his body bumping against mine until we tumbled out and into the Fairgrounds on the other side. 

_That's enough of that._

"Well I'll see you around then," I announced, stalking away towards the trailer park at the back of the carnival. Even as I sternly ordered myself to refrain from looking back at him, there came the sound of hurried footsteps behind me as the boy rushed to catch up.

"Slow downa tick! Imma bit dizzy," he panted, slurring his words as he slowed to his usual lolloping gait beside me. I snuck a glance at him and felt my heart lurch as I realised his head was turned to look at me, frowning as if trying to discern something. I flicked my gaze away, the thudding drums of hot blood pulsing in my ears. 

"Just 'cause I don't really get on wiv your brother doesn't mean we can't be friends you know," he finally said, speaking slowly so as to not slur. I turned to him, surprised.

"Oh, that's good... I mean, I'm glad," I tripped over my answer, heat rising to my cheeks. Somewhere at the back of my mind I wondered if he'd ever have made such a blatant declaration of friendship whilst sober.

"I never know what ta fink wiv you," 2D continued, twiddling his fingers clumsily as he did so, "Sometimes you wanna talk wiv me and then other times you're all unfriendly."

I wanted to snap that he was exactly the same, the memory of his nonchalant brush off that afternoon playing back over inside my head, but I managed to bite the words back. The boy was drunk, he didn't know what he was saying.

"Sorry," I found myself replying instead, taken aback to find just how much I truly meant it. After a pause I ruefully added, "I'm not so good at making friends."

Reaching the back fence with its brightly painted mural, I pushed the door open roughly with the sound of creaking hinges. The collection of caravans that waited beyond were all mostly dark, their tenants most likely soundly asleep as whatever late hour it was.   
                Thinking only of Lou and whether he was safe, I momentarily forgot the blue haired boy behind me as I set off along the left hand side of the driveway. Nerves fluttered throughout the whole hollow inside of me, hands curling to white knuckled fists of trepidation as I marched towards our caravan.  
                It sat slouching at the top of the hill where it usually did, coated in spiderwebs we hadn't yet cleaned off. I stopped in front of the crooked steps, breathing hard but unable to advance. The dark windows betrayed nothing of whether Lou waited inside.

Softly, 2D cleared his throat from behind me, and I whirled to face him, mouth opening in a silent "o" of surprise. 

"Don't you have a trailer of your own to go back to?" I snapped defensively, before wishing the words back.

"I was walkin' you home, like a real gentelsman," the boy slurred, black eyes blinking as he tried to focus on my face. The high alcohol content of his blood had softened his usually hard-set face, leaving his expressions so adorably childlike that I decided not to correct him on his mispronunciation.

"Oh... thanks Stu," I said, managing a small grin at his drunken drawl. Turning back to the caravan, I sighed as I explained, "I don't think Lou's made it back yet, and I'm scared. If the cops caught him, he'll get ID'd and I'll never fucking see him again."

I could hear 2D shifting on the gravel behind me as he processed the information, while hot tears welled in my eyes. He was drunk, he wouldn't even remember this conversation. I could say anything for once in my life and it'd have no consequences.  
              Taking a deep breath, I began.

"There were always only a few rules to follow when we were doing a deal; scout first, mapping exits and entrances and possible other players; then the second rule of sticking to our roles, with Lou on the business side and me keeping watch. All our contacts used to joke that I was a mute because I'd stand there watching everything go down so silently. The final rule was unwritten, 'cause I always knew instinctively not to worry when things went wrong because Lou would always get us out of it. And that was how it was, even last week when everything went to shit and I didn't know which way was up; Lou had a plan and he got us out. It's been that way every day of my life until tonight."

I couldn't turn to face him, couldn't look at his face to see if he was even listening as I clutched the front of my windbreaker, the material over my heart twisting in my fist. He hadn't responded, silence pervading the night and to fill it I continued speaking.

"Last week Lou didn't follow the rules. He left the house without me. A friend, he said, no need for me. I was in the shower at the time and I called out for him to wait and I ran to get there but it was too late it was too fucking late..."

The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked towards me, and I was scared I was too scared to let him touch me, too scared to let someone reach through my body to the terrified child within. I sprang up the stairs, shoving my key into the lock and wrenching it open as soon as the mechanism clicked. Darkness greeted me, and I flicked on the light to see how Lou had last left my Daffy Duck toy, sitting at the booth table with an empty plate in front of it, it's arms placed to look like they held the knife and fork on the tabletop. Vision blurred with welling tears, I closed my eyes against the sight.

Stumbling back out, panic a live wire within my bruised throat, I turned to look at the blue haired boy who stood tentatively at the bottom of the steps, black eyes full of concern. 

"He's still gone," was all I could choke out past the thick lump blocking my windpipe, eyes stinging as large salty tears began to spill down my cheeks. They cooled as they fell, drying cold against my lips as 2D stepped forward to catch me in his arms.  
He held me closer than made sense, our bodies aligning like two lost fragments finally fitting back together. I sobbed, feeling like a child missing their parent and in a way I was and the realisation left me gasping for air against the warmth of his chest. His hands moved to hold me closer, one pressed against the small of my back whilst the other caught the base of my skull, fingers running through thick dark hair to press my face hard to him. I realised I was saying words, the same words over and over; "I'm scared Stu I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared."

"I know, love, I know," he breathed, stroking my hair whilst my tears soaked into his shirt. The bourbon on his breath was intoxicating, the scent of citrus and sweat across his skin leaving me breathless. I clutched to him like an answer to a question I'd always been afraid to ask and the need in me was terrifying.

"I don't want to be alone in there," I whispered, mouth dry and clicking with anxiety. The words were muffled into his collarbone but I knew he heard them from the way his heart began to beat fast against my cheek, his breath catching.

"You don't have ta be then," he murmured, tucking me against his chest as he walked me back up the steps and into the caravan.

2D laughed softly as he took in the Daffy Duck set up, guiding me over to the rumpled mess of my bed across from the all too empty bench seat where Lou should have been.  
Letting go of me momentarily, he remade the bed, smoothing out the sheets and neatly folding them back before taking me by the hand. He ignored the way it trembled in his own as he guided me over to the mattress, waiting patiently until I'd lain down before tucking the blankets in around me.

"S'that awright?" He asked once he'd finished, pale face hovering inches from mine as he remained leaning over me. Lips parted slightly, the very tip of his tongue only just visible as he waited for my answer, but I was caught up in how close his mouth was to mine.  
Up close I could see the short spikes of stubble above his top lip and across his pointy chin, a dark almost black brown like his thick eyebrows as opposed to the bright blue of his hair. My hands itched to reach out and pull him closer, to use the pads of my thumbs to trace the patchy scruffs of hair.

_Don't you dare, Sloane McLeod._

"Why did you choose to dye your hair blue?" I blurted instead, half relieved and half disappointed when he pulled back from my outburst, brows drawing together in a confused frown.

"I didn't dye it?" He answered dazedly, drunk mind visibly scrambling with the sudden change of subject, "I fell on my head as a kid an' it grew back blue."

We looked at each other in the silence that followed his revelation, 2D seeming faintly self conscious as I could only stare at him completely and utterly dumbfounded.

"That's very... unusual," I finally said, and couldn't help but begin to laugh at the unexpected information I'd just been given. The absurdly blue haired boy paused a moment before he began to laugh too.

"I suppose it is," 2D admitted, scratching at the crown of his head as if only just considering it for the first time, adding "I fink my whole life might be a bit unusual."

He didn't elaborate further, so I didn't push him, despite the curiosity prickling through my mind. The boy moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and I shuffled my body over so he had room. His overly long legs had to bend awkwardly in the cramped space as he lowered his weight beside me.

"I fink by the time you wake up tomorrow, your brother will be home safe," He said gently, reaching out to lay the back of his hand against my temple. 

The unreserved tenderness with which he touched me left me breathless, craving more even as it terrified me. I didn't like being touched, despised the sensation of flesh on flesh and yet my body ached to be back between his skinny arms, as close and as tight as he'd held me outside.   
It didn't make sense, wanting him this bad. I'd watched him all week flirting with every woman who came his way, seen how he sauntered off after work towards the town and now knew Lou had been right when he said the boy always returned with a girl on his arm. I could see the woman with the red satin shoes in my minds eye, her gorgeous petite face pinched as she'd looked at me. I was nothing like her, still growing into my slightly too pointy nose and wide mouth. I wasn't dressed all elegant and perched on a bar seat, I was tucked up in secondhand blankets and clothes with tears dried on my cheeks. To even dare entertain the possibility of 2D actually feeling anything other than pity for me was ridiculously naive. 

_Get a grip, he's only even touching you at all because he's drunk and that other girl left already._

Heedless of the turmoil of my self-hating thoughts, the boy was busy pulling his boots off, dropping each one lazily to the floor. His mismatched socks drooped at the ends, worn almost through at the toes.   
I watched with wide eyes as he stood sleepily and reached over to flick the light switch, plunging the caravan into darkness. Body frozen, I clutched tightly to the blanket as I listened to him shuffle for a moment with his belt, before the mattress sunk under his weight.

"Scoot over," he whispered, and I hastily made room as he lay down beside me on the narrow bed.

Both our bony shoulders were sandwiched together, separated only by the thin sheet I lay under and he lay on top of. His breathing began to slow almost immediately, alcohol-infused body relaxing into sleep beside me. I stared at the ceiling in the dark, trying to thaw from my frozen position yet unable to with him suddenly so close.

"Hey 2D," I whispered tentatively, rolling to look at him, "Are you awake?"

"Mm-yeah?" He grunted, shifting so that he was lying on his side facing me, our knees knocking together. In the dim light from between the drawn curtains I could see the tufts of his hair sticking up from where they'd shaken loose of his teddy boy quiff, hanging down above the half open black of his eyes.

"Are you staying all night?" I asked tentatively, heavily aware of the implication a question like that carried and scared of his answer.   
He smiled drunkenly, one eye closing in a squint while he tried to make out my face in the dark. 

"Don't tempt me, love," he drawled, voice half asleep and smelling of bourbon, "I'll just keep you company 'til Lou comes back, awright?"

I tried to keep the mixture of relief and confusing disappointment from my voice as I replied with a quick, "Aye, thanks 2D."

His grin remained as his eyelids fell heavily closed, face open and unaware as I'd never seen it before. Letting my exhausted eyes finally close too, silence reigned for a few moments before his voice came soft across the short span of pillow between us.

"You called me 'Stu' before."

Eyes still closed, I frowned at the smirk I could hear in his voice. Feeling defensive, I answered in a dismissive sniff, "I suppose I did."

"Twice."

"Your point?"

"I liked it, it sounded nice."

I could feel his smile without opening my tired eyes, and I couldn't help but smile too as I lazily lifted a hand to jokingly swipe at the smug expression on the drunk boy's face. He snickered, catching my fingers as they rubbed at his face and imprisoning them against his chest within the curl of his palm.

Sleep found us lying face to face, fully clothed within a tangle knees and blankets. My hand clutched in 2D's, his heartbeat against my knuckles like a steady metronome guiding me through a song I was still yet to learn how to sing.

I slept until dawn light began to fade the sky to grey, pulling stars from their watchtowers in the dark. Morning sun crested gold over the horizon and reached fingers of light in through the gaps between the curtains of the trailer, whispering what I already knew before I opened my eyes.

The boy was gone.

The ghostlike smell of the soap he used lingered on the sheets as I groped for the warmth of a body no longer there.

_Of course he's not still here. He would have woken up sober and been horrified you were next to him._

Heart aching pathetically, I looked blearily across the rumpled space where he should have been, surprised to see a black velveteen creature staring back instead. 

He'd tucked the Daffy Duck plush toy into the bed beside me before he had left, and I blushed at the childlike gesture.   
Reaching out to grab it, I clutched the toy to my chest, smiling sleepily at the image of a sober and pretend-nonchalant 2D placing it beside me before he snuck out. 

The smile dissolved on my lips the moment I saw the unconscious figure who lay in a heap on the bed opposite mine. Blood was dried to almost black in the cropped fuzz of hair at his temple, a graze running the length of his cheekbone. Shoulders hunched so that he seemed smaller, face sallow and dirty yet undeniably his.

Lou.


	6. 1.5

_Water runs in suddenly icy rivulets down the bare length of my body, skin prickling up in goosebumps at the frigid temperature. A sharp inhale and then the water warms again and I'm left wondering why the fuck the apartments hot water service is on the fritz again after we coughed up money to have it serviced last week._

_"Lou!" I yell from the slowly re-steaming shower cubicle, "The water's fucked again!"_

_His reply comes muffled through the sound of the rushing water, so I don't reply and I'm still massaging shampoo into the dense matted mess of my hair when I hear him knock on the bathroom door. He opens it almost immediately after without giving me any time to reply and his silhouette through the mould-spotted pink shower curtain is one of resignation; all curved shoulders and head in hands, fingers massaging the temples of a head which thinks too hard._

_"Ya mean it's goin' all freezing and then heating back up to only lukewarm, again?" He's asking in a voice more sigh than anything else._

_"Aye."_

_"Fuckin' doss cunts," he swears, before the shadowed shape of him disappears from behind the curtain and I poke my head out between the tiled wall and sopping edge of the plastic sheet to see him standing staring in the mirror, body drooping and face dismayed._

_He catches my eye in the dirty toothpaste-flecked reflection and gives me a wry grin, as if unworried, as if undefeated. My heart stings._

_"I got a call about a deal for Davie down at the racecourse," he's saying, picking at his teeth with his fingernail before he starts brushing them with his toothbrush. The bristles of the poor thing have been almost entirely flattened out from months of forceful use._

_"Okay well I just gotta condition my hair and then I'm good to go," I tell him, pulling my head back behind the curtain. Davie's really good looking for one of Lou's friends; there's no way I'm going to go meet him with hair like an overgrown rats nest._

_"No time, I'm running late already and Davie's heaps paranoid after he got done for possession last week. You'd think a few hundred quid fine and a good behaviour bond would be something to celebrate but the radge is shifter than ever."_

_"Shifty or no, I'll be done in a second, just hold ya horses," I'm replying, smirking at the thought of the coke-head being on a behaviour bond. I hear the sound of Lou spitting out toothpaste froth before his answer comes._

_"Got no horses left to hold, it's now or never."_

_"Just wait five fuckin' minutes, Lou," I snap, hurrying in my efforts to slather home-brand conditioner through the all too tangled locks of my hair._

_"Can't Slo, I gotta move this product or we'll be in deep shite with DeWitt," he snaps back, finally losing his temper._

_I hear him storming from the echoing bathroom, the door closing behind him in what sounds more like a piece of decided punctuation to our conversation than an actual slam._

_"Wait! Wait! I'm coming now!" I yell out, anxiety beginning it's first insect winged flutters within my chest. My hair tears and is yanked out in clumps as I viciously rinse it under the tepid water, rubbing it hurriedly with frantic hands before grabbing the tap handles and wrenching the water off._

_The shower curtain is ripped to the side with the accompanying rattle of its hooks clattering together in double time and I almost slip as I leap out of the cubicle and onto the wet tiled floor. There's only one towel in there and Lou has used it to wipe his toothpastey mouth so I dodge from the bathroom to my bedroom completely naked and dripping water across the linoleum._

_I don't think about the clothes I grab, pulling on clean underwear and jeans over my wet skin, then a random discarded t shirt from the floor. I tuck my laces into my grubby trainers instead of wasting time tying them, and sprint for the door._

_I grab my keys and wallet on the way past the kitchen bench and take Lou's adidas jacket from beside the door before I'm out into the apartment hallway, wet hair still half slick with conditioner and dripping._

\-----------------

"Lou," Was the only word I managed to say, my voice breaking around the one thing that had always held me together.

I was at his side in seconds, hands moving to shake him awake, first gentle then harder. The boy's head lolled, the scum of bile and spittle dried yellow around his lips.

"Lou!" I cried out again, brushing a tentative finger against the angry red graze across his face, gaze flicking over the dried blood at his temple. Now that I was closer I could see the wound it had seeped from; a shallow gash along the side of his head.

\-------------------

_It isn't far to the racecourse but I'm beginning to pant as I near the gates, my mouth dry from heaving air through it._

_Lou is nowhere in sight, and I feel my features sink into a fierce scowl as I enter the grounds, head swivelling left and right to try and catch a glimpse of the missing skinhead.  
The hair at the back of my neck prickles, almost as instantaneously as I realise that the racecourse is a ghost town. It's usual bustling by this time in the morning, but as I walk towards the track it seems entirely deserted._

_Pace quickens, heart-rate picking up, an idea begins to form in my head, an investigators wall of evidence zigzagged with red string._

_Davie. Caught with a baggy of cocaine in his back pocket at a bar. Over a gram, enough to go to prison for. Arrested and then released less than 24 hours later with a fine and a good behaviour bond. It didn't add up, didn't make any sort of sense and all of a sudden I felt hideously moronic. I had to find Lou, that was all that mattered._

_I had to stop him from walking straight into an ambush._

\-------------------

Checking his pulse, my own racing heart began to slow as I found his beating steadily, and I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding.

"Lou?" I tried again, shaking him gently.

His eyelids fluttered but didn't open, and I shook him harder. My brother's body ragdolled in my arms, and I bit my lip hard to keep the rising panic in my gut at bay. With the pain as a guiding light of clarity I began to look over Lou, scrutinising the details of his condition.

\------------------

_Just ahead of me is a white van parked casually by the grandstand entrance, with its windows tinted as black as pitch despite the logo reading "Joy's Florist Delivery" emblazoned in yellow on its side._  
A sweat breaks out across my forehead, cold and prickling uncomfortably. Ducking into a crouch, I'm moving in a wide arc around it to try and stay out of view of those black windows.

_I almost wander in front of another inconspicuously parked van, this one apparently for a horse feed stockist. Might as well have eaten my heart it's beating in my mouth so hard._

_Something moves out from the gate, flicking in my peripheral and I'm turning my head so fast I almost get whiplash._

_Lou. It's Lou, and there's someone with him._

_Davie._

\--------------------

Guilt gnawed at me; I should have been out looking for him last night, but instead I'd been snuggled up with a boy I barely knew.  
Filled with acidic self-loathing, I pulled my brother into my arms, holding his birdlike frame close to mine.

"I'm so sorry, Lou," I whispered into the peachy fuzz of his hair, throat feeling thick, "I've let you down."

He mumbled incoherently, so softly that for a moment I was sure I imagined it. His hand raised lazily to swat me away, and I pulled back from him with tears of relief welling in my eyes.  
Lou was frowning ever so slightly, heavy lidded eyes fluttering to open before falling back closed. His hand fell limply beside him, palm up, and it was then that I saw something I hadn't noticed before, nestled in the ivory crook of his elbow.

A single puncture mark, tiny and swollen red.

\------------------

_Davie's white as a sheet and Lou isn't noticing, he's reaching into his pocket and I know and the hidden cops know and the entire fucking world knows that he's about to bring out a bag of cocaine and he's about to swap money for it and he's about to be arrested by an assault squad of police officers and tucked away wherever they put Mum._

_I gotta do something I gotta do something I gotta -_

_"LOU!" I'm screaming and running out into the space between him and the two undercover police vans before I can even process the situation, before I can even come up with some sort of plan._

\------------------

I reached out with a single trembling finger, and pressed the pad of it down against the pinprick scab in my brother's arm. I could feel his sluggish pulse from the thick corded vein which sat purple and bruising just below the marred skin.

\-----------------

_The vans are bursting open like wasp hives, police erupting from them alongside blaring sirens and flashing lights._  
Lou is standing there frozen midway through counting the crumpled pound notes Davie handed him, and Davie is to the side with his hands in the air.

_There's a cop on a megaphone yelling something garbled about not resisting arrest and then my feet have carried me the entire way over to Lou and he's grabbing me by the hand and turning to run.  
Feet like thunder across the pathway into the racecourse grandstand, only to find our path blocked by a third squad of heavily armoured police and then Lou's up on the fence and jumping the other side onto the green of the racetrack itself and I'm following with a cop almost catching me by the leg._

_I'm down on the other side and following Lou in a flash and I swear we might as well be entered in the horserace today because we're flying over the grass too fast to beat._

\-----------------

"Heroin."

I said it flatly, I said it with a deadness I didn't think I'd ever have to feel again. Not since I was nine years old, not since Mum was taken away. What use were the thick defensive walls I'd built up and around those memories when their ghost sat red raw in the flesh of Lou's arm?

DeWitt had punished us in the way he knew would hurt most; having Lou and I peddle the same substance that our mother used to. The one which had made her a shell of a person. I didn't need the story of what happened last night from Lou; I knew all too well myself.  
You had to test a product's quality before you went ahead and sold it. Any business will tell you that.

\-----------------

_We are running, girl and boy on fire across the verdant field and then onto the concrete-clad streets beyond. All around is the sound of sirens and shouting police, the squealing brakes of patrol cars pulling into the kerb just behind us and my heartbeat so loud in my own ears that I can barely understand the garbled words they yell at our fleeing forms. It's just Lou ahead, white shirt flapping over his narrow body as he sprints down behind the local pub and across the laneway beyond._

_Red and blue flashing lights appear at the end of the street and Lou is running to the fence of the house that backs onto the pub, turning to catch me even as I leap for his waiting hands. His hands pinch my waist roughly as he lifts me towards the splintered top of the fence, the skin ripping across my palms as I grab for the weathered wood. Then I'm up and running like a tightrope walker across the top of it, swaying with the impact as Lou clambers up behind me.  
I leap from the fence to the tin roof of the garden shed at the edge of the property just as the police car drives into the thin space of the lane. Lou overtakes me as we run along it and then he jumps onto the low-set roof of the squat house, with me skidding to a halt as the chasm between the two roofs opens up in front of me._

_"Jump! Hurry!" Lou is calling out, his hands reaching for me even as the police burst into the property through the back gate. I have to jump now or it's over and it's not over 'til it's over._

_I'm taking a few steps back and then I'm racing forward and I try to fly but cannot quite propel myself with enough speed, with enough power. I catch the flimsy metal guttering along the edge of the roof in my hands and I'm dangling from it with my feet scrabbling at the brick wall of the house. I think I cry out in fear as I see a cop below me, watch his hands reach up and he's gonna rip me down he's gonna rip me down but strong fingers circle my wrists and I'm being pulled upwards to safety with Lou's grey eyes on mine._

_"I got you slo, don't worry I got you. We're gonna make it out of here," and I know we will and I know we're safe because it's us against the world and he's never let me down before._

\---------------

He slowly began to wake up, eyelids lifting and staying open this time. We looked at each other, my heart squeezing as I realised how much his face looked like our mother's when he was half asleep on skag. The same heavy lids, the same bruise-like smudges beneath each eye.

"Did you truly have to take it?" I asked quietly, wanting to look away from the sight of my brother living up to the family legacy. It hurt like nothing I had ever lived through before, it hurt like a killing blow.

"Rem said... the only way... to know I hadn't gone... snitch," he managed to wheeze out, voice far away and dreamy. He seemed completely undisturbed to have been forced drugs under threat from a man who had been intent on having my face slit open less than twelve hours ago.  
Within the haze of ecstasy that heroin induced I expected nothing less.

Swallowing back the bile bitter taste rising in my throat, I turned away towards the kitchenette. Unsure what to do, I filled the kettle and set it to boil before spooning instant coffee grains into two chipped mugs. My skin felt hot and itchy as I waited for the kettle to heat up and I scratched at it viciously with jagged bitten nails. When had I started doing that? They were chewed right down to the quick.  
The kettle was taking forever. To rid myself of the prickling feeling twitching across my dirt and sweat streaked skin, I entered the cramped space of the caravan bathroom, turning on the shower before leaning hard on the sink whilst I waited for it to heat up.

The girl in the mirror had dark grey eyes, more the colour of ash than the shining silver of Lou's. They looked back at me, bloodshot and flat from repeated nights of bad sleep, set in a face that had become thin and pale from lack of food. My slim neck had a bruise the shape of a handprint around it, but nothing else betrayed the trauma of last night's events. I attempted a smile at the girl reflected back at me, but the sight looked so strained and grotesque that I had to immediately look away, tearing off my soiled clothes and stepping under the weak stream of water.

By the time I had finished picking the gravel out of my grazed knees and scrubbing dirt from of my skin, the kettle had boiled and Lou had woken up enough to have made the coffee. He was sitting at the booth table dazedly, staring at the two steaming cups of black liquid as the idea of consuming it made him queasy.  
His eyes flicked up guiltily to meet mine, and it was then that I noticed the syringe he held in his hand, the discarded spoon and lighter sitting before him on the tabletop. Even from where I stood, hair dripping onto the same dirty uniform shirt from yesterday, I could see the amber liquid within the barrel. A small droplet peeked from the tip of the needle.

"No more after this hit. This is the end of it," was all he said, and he was right but not in the way either of us expected.

Not even in a way that we'd understand until years from then, lying in the ruins of everything we wanted yet couldn't bring back, and knowing that it was those words, those exact words that had led us to that place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and with that we're halfway through part one woo so thank you to anyone who is still reading at this point. If you were worried that 2D isn't featuring enough in this story, don't worry, he's gonna be way more present from now on. I just had to lay the groundwork first, thank you so much for being patient.


	7. 1.6

My mouth was completely devoid of moisture as I stood in front of the dilapidated steps of 2D's trailer, the morning sun warm across my shoulders. It had taken me twenty minutes of knocking on the various caravan doors of my neighbours to find out exactly which mobile home belonged to the blue haired boy.  
               After being pointed in the continually vague direction of the right hand side of the trailer park, it had been a sweetly smiling woman in a battered Winnebago who'd finally been able to point me to the exact location. Her brows creased slightly into a frown once she'd heard whose trailer it was I which I wanted to find, but nevertheless she indicated the crooked camper across from her at the far outer edge of the park.

The squat little thing in front of me was mounted halfway up a hillock and propped up on bricks. One of the front windows was busted and someone had stuck up a poster of the Dalai Lama over the hole left behind. A half finished graffiti tag in lurid green was scrawled across the entire side of the trailer, proclaiming _"GORR"_ , whilst a much smaller line of writing beneath it read _"how many r's are innit? FUCK"_ in the same acid green.  
               Too stressed to laugh at the dopey defacement of the mobile home, I had been about to walk up the half broken steps and knock on the bright orange door when I'd been stopped by the oddest noise coming from inside.

Electronic music was drifting out through the open portal of the broken window, a strange bouncing loop of notes that sounded undeniably familiar. The front of my skull began to ache as I paused, frowning in an effort to remember where I'd heard it before. I wasn't big on listening to the radio, mostly sticking to playing old scratchy records of my mum's on the family turntable, yet I was sure this particular song had been on last time I had been watching early morning television.

_Who gives a fuck, you've got bigger things to worry about than whether the boy likes watching MTV with the volume up super loud._

Shaking my head to try and clear it, I stepped delicately up the rickety stairs and raised my fist to the door just as 2D began to sing.

"The world is spinning too fast, I'm buying lead Nike shoes..."

Taken aback, I realised that it wasn't that the music was playing but instead that it was _being played_. Curiosity piqued, I stepped back from the peeling painted door and listened.

"To keep myself tethered to the days I've tried to lose..."

His singing voice was a nonchalantly monotone drawl, so different from the lilting and nasal timbre of his speech. I found myself grinning despite myself at the idea that the lanky wannabe-ladies-man could even produce such a low and sensual sound.

"My mama said to slow down, you must make your own shoes..."

_How can a man sound sexy while singing about shoes? **Sexy?** Sloane get a grip._

On impulse I slammed my knuckles in a repeated brisk knock against the orange door, the music notes from whatever instrument the boy inside was playing faltering and going silent at my interruption. Anxiety spiked through me, a wave of nails down the chalkboard of my spine and I leapt off the steps to the safety of grassy slope below.  
               Trying my best to act like I hadn't just been eavesdropping, I was in the middle of lighting a nerve-soothing cigarette when the trailer door swung open on creaky hinges. Standing slightly slouched so as to fit in the doorway, 2D looked every bit the bed-rumpled boy I'd wanted to wake up across from that morning; blue hair tousled and hanging down over eyes which were sleepily heavy lidded. His feet were bare, and I decided to look at the slender daintiness of them instead of gawping at his current shirtless condition. He had long and slightly crooked toes.

"Well iffit isn't the little drug mule," 2D said by way of greeting, adding to the heat already building in my cheeks.

"Well if it isn't everyone's favourite dine 'n' dasher," I snapped back, irritated to find him acting so aloof after last night. Meeting his level gaze I felt my own features twist into a scowl. If I was honest I was even more annoyed that he seemed to only remember the one part of the night in which I had revealed something ugly and personal.

"I dunno if I remember 'dining' on anyone last night," he replied sleepily, one lazy finger itching at the stubble across his jaw, "I fink I recall you chasin' away the main course."

_Why worry over dinner when you could have had dessert?_ The Lou side of me answered but I quickly bit my lip to prevent the overly bold words from being blurted out.

"Well I don't know if I recall you being sober enough to even remember our little heart to heart," I said sheepishly instead, too distracted by my own wayward thoughts to continue the match of snarky remarks.

"It wasn't really a heart ta heart, more like a one sided rant," he said, finally cracking the wide gappy grin that made my heart do a little flip, "Plus, I always seem more drunk than I am; headache tablets don't mix too well wiv alcohol."

_Headache tablets?_ I decided to push aside my curiosity for the moment, re-lighting the end of the fizzled fag between my fingers and taking a steadying inhale. Looking back up at him, I let my eyes trace the uneven patch of hair over his sternum, sitting between his two pectorals, then down his wiry chest to the dark snail trail that disappeared below his waistband.  
                 Suddenly aware of him watching me in wait of an answer I had failed to give, I cleared my throat and took another drag.

"I need your help with something," I finally said, earning myself a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.

"Ta help wiv this somefink does my shirt need ta be on or off?" The boy asked teasingly, and I felt my blush go bright and hot as I realised how blatantly I must have been staring.

"Unless you and Lou are a lot closer than I thought, definitely have a shirt on," I replied dryly, trying my best to sound unaffected instead of defensive and flustered.

2D blinked slowly, processing, before dipping out of sight from the doorway. Placing the cigarette between my lips I used both hands to hold onto the railings as I climbed up the steps and followed him inside the trailer.  
                  Inside was a chaotic mess of discarded clothing, ashtrays, empty plastic medicine jars, strange bric-a-brac, and musical instruments resembling keyboards except with way more knobs and dials than I had known a normal keyboard to have. The blue haired boy was up the end beside an unmade bed with his Tusspot Fairgrounds shirt unbuttoned and only one boot on, scratching the crown of his head as he scanned the cluttered space, presumably for the matching shoe.  
As I made my way over to him, 2D sniffed the air, distracted from his motionless search by my tobacco smoke coiling through the air towards him.

"Good finking, I'm too tired ta function," He said, lifting two long fingers towards the cigarette in my mouth. They brushed against the swell of soft skin as he slid them on either side of the filter perched between my lips, plucking it from them to hold up to his own. I watched transfixed as he took a long drag, nodding slowly before returning the cigarette to my slightly open mouth with smoke streaming out through his nostrils on the exhale. The filter was slightly moist with his saliva. A tingle passed down the length of my body.

2D obliviously returned to his search for the missing boot, so I turned from him and pretended to look as well whilst breathing deeply to slow my heart rate. There was a crumpled poster for some old zombie flick entitled " _Dawn of the Dead_ " stuck crooked to the wall beside me, while on the floor directly below was a kitsch golden buddha statue with incense ashes all over it.

"So what's goin' on wiv your brother?"

I jolted at his voice suddenly so close behind me, before clenching my jaw in resentment at my own jumpiness. I needed to calm down. Taking a final puff from the cigarette while turning to face him, I held it out in an offer he quickly accepted. He inhaled deeply from it as I answered.

"You know now that me and Lou do deals," I began awkwardly, pausing until he nodded encouragingly, messy blue locks bouncing with the movement. I took a deep breath and continued, "Last night I also told you how our last deal back home went wrong. Well, it didn't just go wrong. An old school friend of Lou's had made a deal with the police to help them arrest his supplier in exchange for a reduced possession sentence. Lou walked right into a complete police ambush and was witnessed dealing in front of them. That's a go straight to jail card, no passing Go, no collecting $200."

"Huh?" The boy frowned, clearly not getting my monopoly reference. He'd found his other boot and was busy buttoning his uniform shirt up lopsided.

"Ah don't worry, sorry," I hastily dismissed the flat-fallen joke before returning to my explanation, "Anyway, Birdie had moved out here to Eastbourne over a month ago to look after her sick grandma, so she managed to get us jobs here with your dad, but as it turns out that was only really so we could use the trailer park as a place to live without needing to do a police check for an actual rental place or anything."

2D looked mildly hurt, "So you're using my dad's funfair as some sorta home base for your drug dealing business?"

"Ah no! I mean, well, yes, but I didn't know if we were even going to be doing deals here, okay?" I hurried to explain, my hands flying up as if to bat away the idea. Guilt gnawed at my belly, and I found myself confiding in him, "I was hoping since Lou was in hiding from the law, that maybe we wouldn't have to do them at all anymore. It turns out it just doesn't work that way."

"Is that where you'd been last night?" 2D asked carefully, nodding slowly whilst he stubbed out the fag in a nearby ashtray, "Then fings didn't go so well an' you got split up from Lou?"

"Exactly," I agreed, swallowing back the sick feeling bubbling in my stomach as I failed to mention the two DeWitt thugs, Rem and Sticks, "Lou came back early this morning sometime after you left, but that's not why I need your help."

"What do you need my help wiv then?"

"Follow me."

Together we made our way over to the other side of the trailer park, with me having to sometimes speed up to a slight jog to be able to keep up with 2D's much longer-legged gait. As we neared the curve-topped caravan which I called home, trepidation curled hooked claws into my gut.  
                I hadn't wanted to involve 2D in this, but after watching Lou shoot up heroin into his greedily waiting veins despite all my protests, I knew I needed help on my next step forward. My first instinct had been to call Birdie, whose soft and practical advice I could always count on, but hadn't. Mostly due to loyalty to my brother, who once sober would be appalled to find out Birdie had been involved in a situation that revolved around his use of heroin.

As I pushed open the door into the cramped space, I couldn't help but wonder if that loyalty was misplaced as I came face to face with the sight of Lou exactly as I'd left him: sprawled out across the booth table with a cup of cold coffee beside his elbow. He didn't look up as we entered, too lost in his dreamy daze to realise he was now sharing the space with his sister and his most hated coworker.  
                Lou's gear was still on the table; a dirty burnt spoon, a syringe, lighter, cotton ball and belt. I watched 2D's face as his obsidian eyes flicked over the items, jaw setting harder as he registered each one.

"Uh, I dunno what ta do," he mumbled uncomfortably, before pointing to Lou's hunched and drooling form and adding, "This is exactly like that movie."

" _Trainspotting_?"

"Nah, _Dawn of the Dead_ ," 2D announced, "Full on zombie. The only fing that fixes that is a bullet in the head."

I shoved at his shoulder in response to the comment, yet was grateful for his lame attempt at humour to diffuse the tension.

"He's taken another hit, probably about an hour ago, and it takes hours and hours to wear off enough that he's even functional," I explained, heart in my mouth as I mentally steeled myself to ask for the favour I needed. The blue-haired boy flicked his gaze from Lou to me, a small crease appearing between his two thick brows.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked simply, and I could have cried with relief.

"Well, I can intervene and save him once he's sober, but I can't save the both of us once he's fired for not turning up to his shift because he's off his face on skag," I quickly began to clarify, and when he didn't respond I added for further elucidation, "Stu, work starts in ten minutes."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. Mr Pot said you used to operate The Switchback ride until there was an incident. If you can control it, I can collect tickets for you and we can get the day done without your dad finding out Lou isn't working," I outlined, grabbing him by the shoulders like a sports coach to his star player at half-time. His face remained impassive for a moment while he considered the plan, before he flashed me a grin. Up this close I could see a gold-crowned canine tooth winking at me. I smiled back widely.

"Awright I'm in, Low Slow," he said, and I poked him hard in the ribs for the dumb nickname from last night but it felt good, it felt like coming home.

2D left to open the ride for the day, loitering at the door for a moment as if unsure he should be leaving me with a fledgling junkie, before I gave him what I hoped was my bravest smile and he nodded and went. Once he was gone, I felt the aura of warmth he seemed to light in me go cold and dark as I gently tried to lift Lou from his position on the table. Panting slightly from the exertion, I pulled him down onto his booth seat bed and laid him on his side in the recovery position. He looked small and sickly, like the needle had been used to draw all the colour out from him as opposed to injecting something in. Why had he taken it? Why had he then gone and taken even more when it started to wear off?

_Because addiction runs in the family._

I scowled at the thought, shaking my head viciously to disagree with what my mind already knew to be truth; if Lou had even one more hit, he would end up like our mother. The idea of Lou turning into such a bitter husk-like thing brought tears stinging to my eyes, the sight of his unconscious form blurring under the salty film.

I had to call Birdie. Loyalty was off, was utterly spent. Birdie would know what to do, and Birdie would know how to get him to stop before it was all too late.

Reaching into Lou's discarded navy overcoat where it lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, I fished around in the scratchy woollen folds of cloth until my hand fell on his brick-like mobile phone. Pulling it from the pocket, I looked in the contacts to see three names; "B", DeWitt, and Rem. Selecting the first, I held the phone up to my ear and listened to the call dial whilst I packed Lou's drug paraphernalia into an empty bin liner and hid the bag in the top of the toilet cistern. It rang four times before she picked up.

"Hey Lulu," came Birdie's voice, light and airy even through the tinny phone speaker. Despite the current circumstances I couldn't help but smirk at her pet-name for my brother.

"Hi Birdie, I know you're off work today but I need you to come in to the fairgrounds," I said quickly into the receiver, taking one last look at the blissful Lou before I shut the front door and locked it.

"Huh, why? What's wrong?" The immediate alarm in her voice made my heart twist, and I quickly filled her in on everything she had missed after we got off the bus last night. Hiding the key for her under a large stone beside the front steps, I set off running for _The Switchback_ ride.

It was a relatively clear day, the sky blue with only a few scattered clouds that became thicker and more thunderous the further they got out to sea. The sun was warm enough to leave my skin sheeny with sweat by the time the figure eight track of The Switchback was in sight, a small line already queuing around the ride.

"Fa the last time! Rides begin at eleven! It's only ten! Gimme a break!" 2D was announcing from one of the ride carriages, standing like a disgruntled maid with the gloved hands at his hips holding a spray bottle and dripping sponge.

"2D! I love Gorillas! I love Clint Eastwood!" One of the members of the line called out, his hands holding out a vinyl record in it's album sleeve towards the blue haired boy.

_He loves apes and elderly actors... so he's giving a carnival employee a record?_

"Can you sign my t-shirt?" pleaded another, flapping the garment around wildly to gain his attention.

2D rubbed tiredly at his face with the back of a gloved hand, before discarding the cleaning equipment and clambering precariously down from the ride. By the time he reached the bottom of the metal steps he had plastered that disingenuous crooked smile across his face I'd noticed him use on people previously.  
                Feeling decidedly uncomfortable just standing and watching as 2D signed the requested items and posed for photos, I wandered away from the perplexing scene towards the sad and shuttered Quick-Shot Clown Pop booth I should have been inhabiting. I really couldn't understand why this seemed to be a regular and accepted occurrence in the boy's life, and the feeling that I was missing some sort of vital information about him niggled incessantly at me.

It took half an hour and multiple cigarettes, but finally the clamouring crowd was satisfied with their piece of him. Slinking back over to the ride, 2D grinned sheepishly at me as I approached, running a hand through his scruffy hair. I raised one eyebrow in an unspoken question, but he merely shrugged as if he didn't quite get it either. Making a mental note to properly interrogate him about it later, I let it slide for the time being as we hurried to finish cleaning the ride carriages for the day ahead.

A line of genuinely ride-interested patrons started to accumulate as the clock ticked over to 11am, and nerves fluttered in my stomach as I looked up to the strange sight of 2D sitting at the control panel instead of Lou. He looked nervous too, black eyes wide and hands steepled together on the desk in front of him. Doubt beginning to trickle through my mind, I desperately hoped that he could still remember how to pilot the thing from whenever he was last allowed to operate it.

_You mean when he caused an "incident"...?_

Trying to keep my mounting panic out of my eyes I gave him a tight smile and turned back to the customers, carefully taking their ride tokens before allowing them each in turn through the gate and up onto the stationary Switchback. I climbed up onto the platform behind them, checking and then rechecking their seat belts before saluting 2D and hopping down onto the soft grass below. The boy-haired boy looked slightly green as he turned on the ride microphone.

"Uhhh 'ello, 2D here... the pilot... er, captain? Um, I dunno, I make the ride go. Anyway, keep your arms and legs in the vehicle awright? Or they'll probly be cut off or somefink," he drawled, panic cancelling out what little filters he previously had. I made several gestures of my hand slicing across my throat in an effort to signal him to shut up, which he noticed and added with a sage nod, "Yes, you're right Sloane; keep your head inside the vehicle too, as that will also be chopped off."

I had to slap a hand across my mouth to keep from laughing as the people seated in the carriages began to shuffle and look extremely alarmed.

"Wait, there's a word fa that," 2D suddenly continued, and I began launching myself up the control booth stairs to try and silence him.

"Stu! Shhhh!"

"Decapitation."

"Shut up!" I hissed as I reached his side, my words projecting into the microphone and echoing out of the speaker before I slammed the switch off. Below I could see the passengers panicking in their seats, yet unable to move due to the ride's seat belt locking system.

Turning to 2D with wide eyes, I was horrified to see him downing a handful of red and white capsules. He dry-swallowed them noisily as I looked on, incredulous.

"I have a headache," he muttered defensively, before pressing the ride start button.

"It's okay, you're doing fine," I white-lied, half exasperated and half entertained by the display I'd just witnessed.

He was refusing to look at me, poking buttons with his long fingers in a hangdog manner that was oddly endearing. Reaching out a tentative hand, I patted him gently on the shoulder, to which he finally glanced up with a small smile. Happy that he seemed to be recovering from the ego blow just fine, I returned to my assigned post by the gate.

Despite 2D's initial blunder over the loudspeaker, the actual ride went smoothly. I gnawed my nails to bleeding point whilst the carts spun around the track, but surely enough only a few minutes later the passengers were filing off the ride with smiles on their faces. I turned to give 2D the thumbs up, and he grinned mischievously in response.

For the rest of the morning until midday we worked as a team to keep the ride running, my initial anxieties over dealing with customers slowly ebbing away as I got more practice; something I'd never had the chance to do over at the sideshow booth. 2D's public speaking skills still remained haphazard at best, his mind immediately beginning to scramble and disjoint his sentences as soon as he was put on the spot, but it was oddly charming rather than irksome.

I was in the middle of texting Birdie to ask how Lou was doing when a shadow fell across me, cutting off the golden warmth I had been basking in. I pressed "send" before glancing up, already beginning to ask them for their ticket when I found myself choking in surprise instead.

Mr Pot stood towering before me, his kindly face already fading from an initial confusion at my presence at The Switchback ticket gate to a resigned disappointment.

"Sloane, why aren't you at the _Quick-Shot Clown Pop_ booth? You're not assigned to this ride, has Stuart put you up to this?" He demanded, becoming more and more agitated as he registered the situation at hand.

"Uh no no Stu -ah I mean, _Stuart_ did nothing wrong -" I began to stutter but the man wasn't listening, as something far more vexing had taken up his attention; the man's blue eyes had looked past my head to see 2D sitting oblivious at the ride control panel.

"STUART! What in god's name _are you doing up there??_ " He thundered, any trace of his usually gentle demeanour all too suddenly absent. I flinched away from his rage, looking up to see 2D frozen in fear, slowly turning his face from the control panel to fix a dark and wide eyed stare towards his father.

"It was me, I asked him to do it," I interjected, as the tall and glowering man began to make his way over to his son. The blue haired boy was standing up slowly, fingers twisting dials and knobs on the control board to bring the ongoing ride to a stop.

Mr Pot paused, swivelling to fix me with a stern glare. Behind him 2D was clambering dejectedly down the stairs towards us, twiddling his fingers together with nervous energy. I gulped under the harsh stare of my employer, feeling like I was back in high school and about to be chewed up and spat back out by a fed up teacher.  
              2D joined us, standing beside me with his shoulders rounded defensively and his head slightly dipped down so that he resembled a naughty little boy even as he tried to look nonchalant. We both stood in wait, with the passengers all exiting past us with an air of confusion as to why their ride was stopped short. Once the last person had left through the gate, Mr Pot slammed it shut with a metallic clang.

"Stuart, please enlighten me as to why you have taken it upon yourself to operate The Switchback ride after I gave you explicit instructions never to attempt to do so again when you singlehandedly caused a four cart pileup and five lawsuits three months ago?" Mr Pot asked his son, voice icy. 2D winced at the mention of the previous incident, flicking me a mildly embarrassed side glance whilst I tried to process the information. Having now seen how much performance pressure got to him, it was fairly easy to believe that the distracted boy could've caused such a ruckus.

"Well uhh," he began to answer, but his father wasn't prepared to wait for the boy to formulate a response.

"Look son, your mother and I have told you this too often to count, but I really need you to listen this time," Mr Pot said a little more gently, lowering his voice as he grasped 2D by the shoulder, "You're slow, Stuart. You were a little bit ditzy as a kid, but since then you've had one too many traumatic blows to the head. You can play music in your little band, but you can't solve mathematics equations. You can collect ticket stubs, but you can't operate complex machinery. As long as you stick to the things your brain can manage, everything will be fine. When you try and overreach, that's when people get hurt and I have to pay a shitload of money in court fees. Do you understand?"

Shock rippled through me as I listened to the man's words, so condescending and crushing despite the tone of tender care. What head injuries was he talking about? The boy had mentioned one last night, but Mr Pot spoke as if he'd suffered multiple. I felt sick as I dared to sneak a glance at 2D beside me, horrified to see his black eyes downcast and empty as opposed to full of anger, body slumping in apologetic defeat. He seemed to truly believe what his father had just told him, to accept it as purely fact instead of the warped and twisted version of the truth that it was. My jaw clenched as I turned to glare at Mr Pot, outraged on the boy's behalf.  
               How dare he tell his son that he was too stupid to operate the carnival ride, despite having done so perfectly well all morning? How dare he act as if 2D's distracted nature and slightly delayed levels of processing information made the boy less of a person? I felt fury bubbling up my throat in the form of a protest, and I opened my mouth to project it towards the condescending man.

A sudden hand, warm and large around my own, stopped me. I jerked my head to look at 2D in surprise, to see him give a slight shake of his head. I closed my mouth reluctantly.

"It won't happen again, dad," the blue haired boy murmured, still holding my smaller hand like a glove.

"No, it won't. The Switchback is clearly too much temptation for you, and to make things safer for everyone I am going to have to reassign you to sideshow work," Mr Pot declared gravely, as if this were the most severe punishment he could dish out, "You'll be on the Ring Toss stand until I can trust you again."

"Awright," 2D nodded defeatedly, looking slightly grey at the prospect of working in a booth. My hand was dropped from his hold, swinging limply back to my side.

"As for you Sloane," Our boss continued, turning his slowly softening blue gaze to me, "I know you're only young, but that doesn't mean you have to go along with what Stuart says. In the future if he asks you to do something like this, say no and come report it to me. You've been assigned to the _Quick-Shot Clown Pop_ booth, so stay in it."

"I understand," I affirmed, inwardly seething at the mention of my age. For some reason unbeknownst to me, the idea of 2D realising I was only seventeen made me distressed.

"Now, wherever Lou popped off to, can you call him and remind him that carnival ride staff are only allowed a fifteen minute lunch break at 2pm," Mr Pot finished, his voice returned to its normal light tone, "Of course I understand how tiring it would be for him running rides all morning, so I'm happy to let this slide, as long as it doesn't happen too often."

_Holy shit Lou has really done a number on this guy._

Mr Pot finally left, talking into his radio to request the current Ring Toss booth employee to replace 2D on ticket stub collection.  
Breathing out a sigh of relief that Lou had remained out of the line of fire, I turned to give 2D an apologetic smile when I realised he was no longer beside me. Looking around wildly, I spotted his lanky frame stalking off across the grassy boulevard towards the row of sideshow booths.

"Stu! Wait!" I called out, but he merely squared his shoulders in response and kept on walking.

I stood alone, feeling childlike in the oversize uniform shirt hanging limp and tent-like over my body, and wondered what had been the exact moment I'd begun to so enjoy his company that his absence felt like a physical blow.

 

\-----------------

 

It was much later that I returned to Lou, sitting hunched and shivering under a blanket with Birdie. In the flickering fluorescents she read aloud to him from a novel called _House of Leaves_ , her face focused as she performed the character dialogues in a variety of voices.

_"Ghosts always go first for the one who's alone"_ she read, and Lou trembled as he looked up and noticed me.

Birdie glanced up and smiled tiredly, her eyes unnaturally hooded from exhaustion. I managed a tight half-smile back, before turning my attention back to my brother, who refused to meet my gaze. Silence reigned, the air heady with everything that needed to be said but was somehow too hard to say. Birdie dog-eared the page of the book to mark their place, and then placed it delicately on the table with a soft thump.

"I love you Lou," she said simply, hand stroking across the stubble of his hair, "With everything that I am, with every piece of me."

I had to look away as she spoke, unable to bear the sight of the unabashed tears that began to slide down my brother's cheeks. It felt too intimate to be standing there in the room with the both of them and their love.

"I had my hands tied; I had to get back in DeWitt's good graces. I never meant to put either of you through this," Lou said, voice cracking as he tried to keep his tears out of the words.

"I know, and it's been done now. You've proven yourself to him, so you never have to take that shit again," Birdie soothed, her pale face gentle yet unyielding. The unspoken message was clear: she adored him, but she wouldn't watch him destroy himself.

"I won't, never again," Lou promised, grey eyes flicking between the only two people he loved in the world; Birdie and I.

He hugged the willowy girl tightly, tears drying in silvery salt trails down his cheeks, then reached out a hand to me. I hesitated for only a moment, for only a fraction of a second before I took the offered hand, but as I joined them in a three person embrace I could feel my own hesitation ringing out into the world and asking a question both Lou and I would be afraid to answer.

It was there in the curl of their arms that I felt for the first time a tiny rift open between us, as if just a few stitches in the threads that tied us all together had suddenly snapped. It began with my moment's hesitation, and I feared how it'd all end.  
             My skin began to burn from the physical contact, and I fidgeted uncomfortably whilst waiting for it to be over. Birdie seemed to sense my unease almost immediately and drew back, tucking my hair behind my ear in a wordless declaration of love. Lou seemed sheepish for his rare display of tears, clearing his throat as we all split apart.

"You haven't said anything, Slo," the boy murmured, our eyes meeting briefly before I glanced quickly away.

I tried to think of something to say, but the words escaped me, dancing just out of reach of my grasping fingers. Birdie busied herself with making tea, the bubbling sound of the kettle an organic static in our silence. I opened my mouth and then closed it, too caught up in all the things I was afraid of to say anything at all. Lou waited patiently, before trying again.

"So I heard that radge 2-Daft helped me out big time today, how'd ya manage to get him to do that?" He asked, the beginnings of a smirk playing across his lips. At the mention of the blue haired boy my stomach twisted with guilt.

"I think... I think for just a day, this one single day, we might have been best friends," I answered, heart aching as I realised how far those golden hours working in tandem with 2D were now out of reach. Today might have been saved for Lou but it had come at a price for all the rest of us.

"Sounds awful."

"You owe him a massive thank you," I snapped back, thinking of the abuse from his father the blue haired boy had been willing to endure in order to keep my brother and I safe.

"Yeah yeah I'll hit him up tomorrow. Hey, maybe I'll even give him mates rates on a bag o' skag," Lou jeered, quick to dismiss the idea that he owed his coworker anything. I shuddered at the thought of 2D being on the substance, all the brightness being leeched from his smile and all his antics being put to sleep.

"No," Birdie and I snarled almost in unison, and Lou's hands flew up palms out as if to fend us off.

"Jesus wept I'm only joking," he laughed, before suddenly sobering to add, "But we do need to start selling soon. Rem and Sticks have told several interested buyers to come for pick ups at the _Quick-Shot Clown Pop_ booth, so you're gonna have a lot more customers come to the sideshow than usual, Slo."

Shock rattled through me, parting my lips and pulling my eyes open wide as I met his somber gaze. I wanted him to not be serious, wanted him to be wearing a shit-eating grin and say he was just kidding, but he wasn't and he didn't. Anxiety fluttered through my ribcage, constricting the air from my lungs like a snake around it's prey.

"I don't want to sell skag," I whispered, bitter tears welling in my eyes.

"I know Slo," Lou murmured, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear, "But you will. You will."

 

\---------------------

 

The night outside was quiet and still, not a breath of wind stirring the new spring leaves or causing the blades of grass at the gates of the carnival to flicker and dance. I stared out across the darkness of it all from my newfound perch on the roof of the carousel, my thoughts swirling too fast to keep up with.

_Mum smiling into the nothingness as she plunges a needle into her arm and a young Lou pulling me away from the living room, saying let's go play somewhere else Slo, let's go Slo and then it's Lou with the needle and Lou with the little baggies full of off-white powder saying I have to sell them, me, the one who is the look-out, the sentry. Not my job, not my -_

Movement flickered outside the gates, and I jerked my head to see two people approaching the employee after hours entrance. Their voices carried across the still air, too muffled to understand, then a girl's laughter that rung out like the peal of a bell. I hugged my knees closer to me, trying to be as small and as unnoticeable as possible as they pushed their way through the revolving door.

It was the girl that appeared first, her silver stilettos flashing in the moonlight as they swung back and forth in her honey coloured hand. The lengthy skirt of the yellow dress she wore fanned out around her in a brief golden twirl of fabric as she spun, laughing lightly, to face her companion.  
                  He was beautiful as he stepped out, lanky gait unable to render him less of a heartbreak as he offered her his elbow with a self-deprecating flourish. Blue hair pushed back from his face, he looked as pale and as untouchable as the moon that hung above us all. His tweed suit jacket had a bottle of spirits sloshing around in the pocket, the shirt beneath already more than half unbuttoned with a slightly bent cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth; a walking advertisement for the most alluring of vices. I felt my heart pinch with jealousy as the girl accepted his proffered elbow, sliding her free hand over the crook of his arm.

Suddenly feeling the need for a distraction as they began to walk unknowingly towards me, I pulled out a packet of cigarettes and matchbook from the voluminous pocket of my windbreaker. Sliding out a single fag, I placed the packet on my lap whilst I went to light a match. It was as I did so that the packet slipped between my scrawny legs and tumbled down the steep roof, disappearing into the darkness below.

_Fucking hell._

I finished lighting the cigarette and stood up, leaning slightly to look over the edge of the precipice. Two pairs of eyes squinted back up at me, one set brown whilst the other pair was entirely black.

_**Fucking hell.** _

I whipped my head back, praying they hadn't properly seen me, and took a vicious drag of the cigarette. A plume of smoke flowed between my lips as I exhaled slowly, waiting.

"'Ello? Sloane, s'that you?"

_**FUCKING HELL.** _

I remained resolutely silent, hoping he and his gorgeous date would leave soon so that I could return to feeling sorry for myself. I still felt terrible for getting him in so much trouble today, felt ashamed that I'd been there to hear the horrible things his father thought about him and that I hadn't spoken out against it all.

"I know you're there, I can see your smoke," 2D called out, tone all mild amusement and drunken confusion.

"No you can't," I blurted, before sinking my face into my palm in mortification at how terribly lame it had sounded.

The two of them moved into view from where the roof at been blocking them, and I found myself grinning sheepishly as they caught me red handed, standing on the carousel rooftop with nowhere to hide. 2D held my cigarette packet in his free hand, and I mentally kicked myself for dropping it almost on top of his head and giving away my hiding place.

"Hi," I managed to greet him, completely unsure of where we stood after today's events.

"Hey," he replied, black gaze heavy on mine. The woman beside him looked with visibly piqued interest between us, seemingly waiting for an introduction, before rolling her eyes with a sigh.

"Good night?" I asked carefully, testing the waters. His responding smile was pure animal, gapped teeth flashing at me across the dark.

"Yeah, it's been awright," he drawled, before curling an arm around his date's waist and adding, "About to get even better."

The girl stifled a giggle and slapped at his shoulder playfully, before leaning up to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it was had that oddly empty crooked smile spreading across his face, and then something twisted knifelike in my gut as he dipped his head to kiss her.

"Well that's really good, you two have fun now!" I called out, all light and teasing despite the hollow sensation spreading throughout my body as I watched his mouth meet hers.

They broke apart, 2D offering me a distracted wave before they began to walk away towards the trailer park, the darkness collecting around them. As I stood and watched them go, feeling achingly alone for the second time that day, I could have sworn that the blue haired boy looked back.  
              Just for a moment, just a fleeting glance in the moonlight before they disappeared from sight, but even that seemed like wishful thinking.

It was becoming clear to me that I was all out of wishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Sloane and 2D working on The Switchback ride together.


	8. 1.7

Lou and I walked side by side the next morning, a reunited team on our way into battle. I had three baggies of heroin tucked into the waistband of my underwear, three clean needles in my jacket pocket, and nothing but panic on my mind.   
As we reached the divide between our two respective funfair attractions, Lou patted me placatingly on the shoulder before heading off towards The Switchback. His shoulders were slouched, demeanour abnormally subdued, and I kept sneaking worried glances at him over my shoulder as I walked up toward the row of sideshow booths. He was still acting strangely after yesterday, that much was for certain, but as to why I couldn't say.

Entering through the back door into the dim interior of the kiosk, I unlocked the metal shutter and rolled it up with a loud clattering sound before lifting up the box of plush toy prizes to the bench. Multitudes of sightless plastic eyes stared at me as I began to hang them on the hooks that lined both the walls on either side of the booth. Once those were filled, I went around to the front of the desk to place the last few prize toys along the overhanging roof, standing precariously on my tippy toes to try and reach.  
The particularly hideous Bugs Bunny plush I flapped at the metal hook did not seem to want to obey my bidding however, staring malevolently at me as it repeatedly plummeted towards my face. I caught it, frustratedly holding it's neck in both hands as I looked into it's crossed eyes.

"Don't fuck with me, you radge cunt," I hissed at it in my best Lou impersonation, before there was a sudden voice behind me.

"Need some assistance?"

I yelped, whirling around to see a grinning 2D standing only a meter away. Sure my cheeks were going scarlet, I slowly released the Loony Tunes star from my chokehold and nodded. The boy snickered as he grabbed the toy from me, hanging it in it's rightful spot with ease. Together we worked together to hang them all up, with me passing them to the tall boy and him fitting them on the hooks.

"Thanks Stu," I mumbled once we finished, the two of us standing side by side to admire our handiwork.

"Don't fank me just yet: you gotta help me out now," he laughed, placing a hand on the small of my back as he steered me over to the booth just beside the  _Quick-Shot_. My heart leapt as I realised we'd be working right next to each other from now on.

He unlocked the back door and held it open for me, waiting until I'd entered the dingy space before following. I rolled up the shutter for him, and the two of us looked around at the cluttered filthy interior of the room in dismay.   
Whoever had been the previous employee assigned to the unpopular sideshow booth had clearly loved only two things in life; hot chips from the burger stand and beers in a can. Empty packaging from the two items littered the floorspace, as did the rings for the tossing game, and shattered glass, seemingly from the multiple empty spaces in the rows of empty milk bottles that sat on the back table for the rings to be tossed onto.

"What the fuck," I said into our horrified silence, looking over the abundance of trash 2D had been left to deal with.

"That's what I was finking," 2D sighed dejectedly, the energy seemingly knocked out of him.

Guilt itched at the back of my neck as I watched him pick up a neglected broom from the chaotic floor, half its bristles fallen out so that it resembled a row of ill-kept whale teeth.   
                   Wanting to bring back his smile like sunshine, I decided to point this out to him.

"A whale with a bad dental care plan?" I suggested, waving a hand towards the wide broom head.

To my surprise, he looked genuinely disturbed for a moment while he looked at the cleaning implement in his grip, shuddering before catching sight of my confused expression. Beginning to sweep, he looked bashful as he confessed, "I fucking hate whales."

"Er, why?" I queried before I could stop myself, genuinely perplexed at the idea anyone could hate the gentle marine creature.

"They're too big! They could swallow you whole," 2D exclaimed, gesturing with the broom as if to demonstrate to me just how large a whale was. I snorted, taking it out of his hands and beginning to sweep the trash into a pile.

"Did your parents read you the story of  _Jonah and the Whale_ too often as a kid or something?"

Now it was his turn to look confused, fixing me with a one eyed squint, "Huh?"

"It's an old bible story about this dumb radge who runs away from his problems and gets swallowed by a whale as punishment," I explained, before adding meekly, "My Mum used to tell it to me sometimes when I wouldn't do what she said."

"Swallowed whole?" The boy echoed, voice pitching with genuine horror.

"Yeah, he lives in it's belly."

2D shuddered and I laughed lightly, nudging him with the end of the broom.

"Calm down Jonah," I teased, before turning back to the task at hand and adding in a laugh, "I'll protect you from the whales."

"Oh yeah? I might hold you ta that," he said with the starts of a small sheepish smile.

I crossed my heart with my free hand in a wordless promise, and with that we set to work hurriedly cleaning the booth before opening time. He hummed while he collected trash in a black garbage bag, and I added in random extra percussion every now and then to make him laugh. We found a rhythm, a makeshift cleaning song that had us finishing in what seemed no time at all.

He was intoxicating to be around, making me feel a warm glow from the inside out; yet the fairgrounds were about to open for the day and I was all too aware I due back at the booth I'd been entrusted with. As I straightened up, stretching my arms over my head so that the overlarge uniform shirt resembled red and yellow bat wings, I suddenly remembered what I'd been meaning to ask him.

"Are you in a band?" I blurted, causing him to jump in surprise.

"Uhh,  _was_  in a band. We split up about six months ago," He replied slowly, before adding with a laugh, "I fought you knew."

"No... were you... heaps successful or something?" I asked, feeling moronic for not piecing it together sooner.

"Yeah, more than a few hit singles off our first album. I'm just the lead singer but, Murdoc ran the show."

No wonder he had so many people always queuing at The Switchback. I grinned at my own ignorance, shaking my head as a memory stirred in the recesses of my mind.

_What animal had they been saying they loved? An... ape?_

"Gorilla?" I tried tentatively, my shy voice causing 2D to snicker.

"Gorillaz," he corrected, and I shrugged self consciously. The boy looked incredulous, "You really have never heard of us have you?"

"What can I say, I listen to old mopey crooners from the 60s and my brother motor-mouthing me stories. Between the two of them there's no time to tune in to the latest hits," I pretend-sighed, bringing a hand up to my face to mime wiping away a tear. 2D pouted at my teasing, playing along as he gave me a gentle shove towards the door.

"Go on then, come back when you've got a better taste in music," he huffed, and I laughed as I leant my full weight against his scrawny arms to make the job of evicting me from his booth harder.

Finally he managed to heave my ragdoll form to the doorway, at which point I stood upright and lightly stepped out of it and away from his reach. I gave him a small wave from the golden sunlight beyond the shadows he skulked resentfully in, before practically skipping back to the rotating row of clowns I was meant to manage.

They greeted me with their jaws hanging open in what seemed perpetual shock, and I grinned as I whispered to them, "I know right?"

My chest felt alight, as if the candle-bearer who'd awakened the first time I ever met him had finally arrived at my heart. 2D seemed to genuinely want to be around me, to seek out my company and enjoy my presence; an unexpected friend in enemy territory.

_What about that girl last night? He barely noticed you existed once someone better was hanging around._

The light flickered, fizzled, almost sputtered out. I closed my eyes against the obnoxious inner voice, gritting my teeth as I tried to eject it from my mind.  
               My hands trembled, the tight feeling in my head pulsing with incessant need. A need for what? Nicotine.

I fumbled for my packet of fags, checking the back and front pockets of my jeans before patting at the shirt and coming up confusedly blank on where I'd put them.

2D; he'd picked them up last night and left with them. I could see the paleness of him in the moonlight when I closed my eyes, like an after-image of looking into light.

With a sigh I hopped out over the front bench of the booth, turning to call out to my next door neighbour's window as I did so.

"Hey, fag thief!" I called, before choking on my next words as I came face to face with a carnival customer who had stopped outside of the ring toss stand.

"What did you call me?" She gasped, voice dripping with breathy indignation.

Unable to speak, I gaped in horror before pointing at the blue-haired boy who sat at the desk behind her, hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. The girl's auburn curls bounced against her bare shoulders as she turned to follow my gesture, before scowling even harder once she realised I had been talking to 2D.

"You wanted somefin'?" The boy asked, leering out from around her to give me a smirk. I rolled my eyes at how much he was enjoying my tongue-tied state.

"Aye, gimme the cigarettes back from last night," I ordered him peevishly, anxiety overriding my patience as 2D's girl of the hour continued to attempt to stare me down. At my mention of "last night" her eyes narrowed, sliding over to 2D and then back again. With a jolt I realised she thought I was saying I'd  _spent the night with him_ , and the heated jealousy in her glare had a smirk spreading across my face.

"Aw yeah, sorry," 2D responded, obliviously fumbling in his pockets and bringing out the crumpled packet, tossing it over to me.

"Thanks Stu," I drawled, leaning against the booth wall and lighting one up. I sucked slowly through the filter before pulling the cigarette from my mouth and blowing the smoke upwards and away from their faces. The girl coughed pointedly anyway, which I found more amusing than anything else.

It was almost irresistible to not fuck with her.

Pursing my lips as if in deep thought, I looked over to 2D and said in an overly-casual tone, "So how  _was_  last night for you?"

"Well, I fought it went pretty well," the boy answered, blissfully unaware of how much his customer was bristling at the revelation. Scratching the angled edge of his jaw with a finger he added with a sigh, "But after we left you she wasn't interested in anyfing but talking. Kept askin' all these weird questions about where I'd met you and how old you were and fings like that. Like really suspicious and stuff you know?"

"That's... odd," I said slowly, a chill passing down my spine at the strange information I was hearing. 

The girl shifted awkwardly as 2D very visibly had completely forgotten about her, giving me one last withering look before stalking off into the carnival crowd. The glowing ember tip of my cigarette reached the filter and I dropped it, stubbing out the cinders with the toe of my trainer. I could feel 2D's eyes on me as I straightened up and went to return to my post inside the booth.

"Why you gotta do that?" He asked suddenly, the lilting pitch of his voice leaning towards a whine.

"Do what?"

"Come an' interrupt me chatting up a lovely lady an' chase her away," 2D sighed, moping on the table as his black eyes traced the crowd for his long gone girl.

"I did no such thing," I laughed, before adding teasingly, "Don't be so sure it wasn't  _you_  who sent her away."

2D frowned and opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly stopped, staring straight ahead. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he blurted out the question, "Where's Lou heading off to? We aren't allowed a break for another few hours."

My blood ran cold as I whirled to face _The Switchback_ , catching only a glimpse of the shaved top of my brother's head as he disappeared into the crowd. There was a tremble down my spine, panic the starting gunshot for my heart to begin racing as my body realised the reason for Lou's departure seconds before I did.

_Heroin. He's going to go shoot up._

"No!" I heard my own shrill voice cry out, before I turned in alarm speak to the blue haired boy in hurried tones, "I have to stop him, I can't let him put any more of that shite into his body."

2D blinked, before placing his palms upwards on the bench-top and reasoning calmly, "He might not be going ta go do that, Sloane. My dad might have called him on the radio ta go run an errand or somefing."

I scowled at his rational words, and was about to snap something in agitated response when a knock on the wall of the  _Quick-Shot_  booth distracted me. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I jumped from the unexpected sound, turning to see a young man standing expectantly behind me.

"Are you McLeod?" He asked, icy blue gaze freezing me in place. Pulse still racing, I felt myself click into sentry-mode, as if his pointed question had flicked a switch.

"What's it to ya?" I responded, tone purposefully light despite the defensive set of my jaw and the edge of aggression in the words.

The man laughed nervously, before fumbling in his wallet and pulling out a series of crumpled pound notes. His hands jittered as he tried to smooth them out before he held them out towards me, low and close to his body. My mouth went dry as I quickly counted the amount without accepting it; £75 in smaller notes and loose change.  
                       From somewhere behind me 2D's black eyes burned into the back of my head as I feigned indifference, raising a single brow at the man's offer. He looked decidedly uncomfortable, his body language communicating much more than his rehearsed greeting had. I was dealing with a man who was unsure, who seemed relatively new to the process of buying illicit substances. It took almost all my power to not turn him away, to not send him packing with the warning that this drug, this particular poison, was not meant for any of us.

"I'm a mate of Sticks, he said you could get me a fold. Said you could get me clean kit for it too," the man rambled agitatedly, fidgeting with the crinkling notes.

_You need the money._

My panicked mind relentlessly repeated what a slow drag of wasted time a deal would be when Lou might be needing me, but I was all too aware of how little of our supply we had sold. If we didn't push it all by the end of the week DeWitt would be none too pleased when his goons came to call. Could I look this man in the face and tear apart his life for a profit?

_No, but you're gonna have to; for Lou._

Sickened at the selfish truth of it all, I nodded slowly and reached surreptitiously into the side elastic of my underwear, pulling a single baggy out and into the curled palm of my hand. Moving towards him with a veneer version of a sultry smile, I snatched the cash from his hand even as I stepped up close into his personal space to slip the plastic fold of powder into the front pocket of his jeans in a swift and fluid movement.  
                        It was something I had practiced with both Birdie and Lou multiple times when I was younger, before it became clear that my anxiety was too debilitating for me to remain calm under pressure and Lou had taken charge of all product handling. From the viewpoint of a passerby, it would look like a girl moving in to kiss someone and them jerking their head back in surprise. A rejected declaration of love, much more interesting to watch than what my hands were doing.

As if on cue, the man flinched in alarm at the sudden proximity of my upturned face, but before he could further react I had already shoved one of the sterile syringe needles into his back pocket and stepped back with a pretend pout. I could barely hear the world around me over the thudding inside my own chest, calling incessantly for me to follow my brother rather than have wasted time completing a deal. The guy seemed dazed for a moment before he grinned, patting his pockets in self-reassurance as he gave a small wave-like gesture and slipped off into the crowd. As soon as he left I felt bile rise acrid and bitter along the length of my throat, lungs constricting to a size too small to function as the panic finally overwhelmed me.

_You're scum, you're fucking scum. He's a Lou to someone and you were the piece of shit who signed his death certificate for less than a hundred quid._

I pressed the knuckles of my fists into the tightly shut sockets of my eyes, hyperventilating in an effort to draw air into my chest. Static ticked across the inside of my skull, winged insects taking flight through the empty cavern of my gut and the world shrinking to only that single moment of hell.

_I have to find Lou I have to get Lou, move you weak pathetic child hurry and move move move -_

"I can't move," I choked out in a breathless rasp, frozen with fear even as my mind conjured up visions of my brother as he had been yesterday; all grey and fading from me too fast to bring back.

_You will lose the boy you stupid girl; you will stand there and watch him die and there will be nothing left except the knowledge that it was your fault, yours alone._

"Hey, hey, easy now."

His voice cut through the hot white static, settling like a cooling hand on a feverish brow and I felt him tuck me in to his chest whilst I gasped to try and breathe. Face against his steady heart, I listened to the metronome of it until I began to calm, the images of Lou shooting up melting into a blank and almost catatonic nothingness.   
I felt myself being walked slowly backwards, steadying hands pressed to my shoulder and spine, until he stopped and released me. Eyes fluttering open, the sun was too dazzling for a few moments to see where I was. I knuckled my closed lids, trying to focus on drawing air into my constricted lungs.

"Sloane, love," 2D said gently, "Sit down."

I did as I was told, finding a milk crate had been pushed behind me, and I finally reopened my eyes to see him taking a seat across from me on a blue crate of his own. His dark gaze met mine, creased with worry.

"Your chair matches you," I joked lightly, uncomfortable at the blatant care he had written across his features.

He frowned for a moment, looking down at the crate from between his lanky legs, before what I was saying clicked and he snickered.

"Well yours matches you too, since you're blushing all the time," he retorted, pointing a long finger at the red plastic crate beneath me, and I laughed too even as my cheeks began to colour at the comment. I hadn't realised he'd noticed. I hoped he didn't realise he was the cause.

The boy fished his hand into the chest pocket of his uniform shirt, bringing out a tobacco pouch, filters, and rolling papers. I watched his fingers as he carefully sprinkled loose tobacco across a paper, placing the little white filter at the end before he then began to roll it up tight with both sets of thumbs and forefingers. Bringing it up to his mouth, my eyes tracked the pink tip of his tongue as he licked the edge and sealed it down.  
Two were made, then one passed to me and I took it, surprised.

"It's no good smoking rollies alone," he said when he noticed my face, as if acknowledging a simple fact that all people universally knew.

We lit up and sat across from each other in a comfortable silence, the sunlight kissing at our skin. My thoughts dipped continuously back to Lou, like gravity pulling at a child's bouncing ball, and I mentally scrambled to try and push the thoughts from my mind. I didn't want to have another panic attack. It had left me exhausted, had left me feeling small and weak and that I wouldn't survive another one.

_2D._

There he sat, shoulders rounded and his scruffy blue-haired head resting on one hand. His legs were so long that they stuck out frog-like either side of him, black drainpipe jeans coming down short so that I could see the entirety of his pink socks. He saw me watching him and smiled, the gap where his front teeth should have been allowing his tongue to peep its head out at me. My heart flip flopped.

"Maybe you're right," I said slowly, drinking in the sight of that smile, willing for things to be good in the world, "Maybe he'll be back in a moment."

And it was sweet that he could make me feel that way, like the world was gentle and kind and that happiness was abundant for everything and everyone, even corrupted creatures like me.

But naive. Too naive to last.

\----------------

I returned home that evening unprepared for the sight that greeted me; the caravan had been ripped apart with shelves and drawers strewn down the walkway, the kitchenette cupboard doors left open and gaping with indecent emptiness. The blankets had been stripped from both beds, the pillows wrenched free from their slips and tossed carelessly aside. I looked across it all, nausea flooding my senses to the point of black spots beginning to flicker across my vision. Daffy Duck lay on the ground at my feet, facedown in the wreckage of our lives.   
If Lou had come back here, I would have come in to find the thing positioned somewhere odd to make me smile, to tease me for having it at all.

"Lou...?" I whispered into the stillness of the space, his name a question I shouldn't have had to ask.

I picked the black plush toy up from the floor by it's arm, returning it to it's place on my now naked mattress. There was barely any space to walk for all the objects littering the floor, and I had to tread carefully on the balls of my feet to avoid tripping.   
Trying to make sense of the devastation before me, I desperately surveyed the room for a collection of clues that signalled that this somehow, against all odds, had nothing to do with the actions of my brother.

No one had broken in, that much was obvious from the locked and unforced door I had come in through. The windows were all intact, the glass smooth and dark as it reflected my stricken face back at me. Whoever had done this had entered with a key, locked themselves in, and then torn the place apart looking for something.

_Looking for something...?_

An image formed in my mind, lighting up neon in the confused murk; a bin liner bag containing a syringe needle, cotton buds, belt, burnt spoon, and a lighter. I could see it as I'd left it, tied up tight and floating at the top of the toilet cistern. Cold spread it's palms over me, fingers prickling with icy nails down my spine.

Heedless of the chaos at my feet, I flung myself towards the bathroom door at the far end of the trailer, yanking at the door handle only to find it unyielding. He'd flicked the latch on it. I slammed the flat of my hand against the veneer panel separating us, five fast thuds that rattled through the hinges.

"LOU!"

No response. Swallowing back the panic running lines of static along my skin, I rammed the side of my shoulder against the door with the entirety of my meagre weight. It shuddered from the force but the lock refused to give way, causing me to bounce off ineffectually. I gritted my teeth and tried again, pain beginning to bloom along the bony joint.

"Lou! Open the fucking door!" I cried out, beating my fist against it in frustration when there was no response.

Not a sound came from the hidden interior of that space, not a whisper of even his breath as I strained to listen. The panic rose up and welled over the walls I had tried to erect to keep it in, and I slammed myself against the door in repeated bruising blows until the pale skin of my elbows and shoulders began to perforate, opening up pink and swelling with the abuse. The sting of it was enough to make me stop, frustrated tears pricking up hot under the closed lids of my eyes as I leaned against the door, voice rasping past the lump in my throat.

"I'm too small, Lou. I can't help unless you come out."

Yet again I was greeted with nothing, just the sound of the wind in the trees outside and a frightened heartbeat, my own, pulsing with pointless desperation.

_He could have OD'd in there, he could have choked on his own vomit and you won't ever know because you're too weak to break down a flimsy bathroom door._

I sunk my face into ready-waiting hands, digging fingernails through hair and along my scalp in harsh scraping lines. I should have left the booth, I should have trusted my instincts. The only thing I was here for, the only thing that had me selling powdered poison to strangers and passing payments to DeWitt, was to watch out for Lou. To keep Lou safe. To make sure that the one person who had loved me enough to sell their future in exchange for mine was never ripped from my side. For my brother I would burn the world, would tear apart cities and run barefoot through the ashes, just so he could walk out of it all alive and unscathed. Just so he could turn to me, grinning wide as he said something inappropriately sarcastic, and I could pretend to be mad even as I burst out laughing.  
If he was gone, there'd be nothing left of me worth living for.

_No. Focus._

Steeling myself a last time, I breathed deeply through my nose before taking a few steps back. Kicking several pieces of detritus out of the way, I lined up the clear path like a runner about to race, the locked door seeming to expand in my vision until I saw nothing else. It's weak point was the handle side, only held in place by the sliding bolt sunk into the caravan wall.   
Which meant it could break. Undoubtedly.

With only a moment's hesitation I charged at the door, propelling the entire left side of my body against it with such force that I gained air as I leapt towards it. White hot pain lanced up from each contact point as I collided with the panel; shoulder, elbow and hip lighting afire. There was a splintering sound as the bolt was forced through the frame, door flying violently open as the momentum carried me into the bathroom. I careened into the porcelain sink, the side of my head crashing hard on the mirror cabinet above it. The glass splintered, shards falling in tinkling rain into the basin, but all I could see was the unholy vision of my brother, slumped and grey under the flickering fluorescent light.

He was sitting atop the closed lid of the toilet seat, head leaning heavily against the wall beside. A half unbuckled belt was loosely looped around his upper arm, the brown leather tail of it hanging snake-like from the pale limb and trailing onto the top of the toilet cistern which lay broken in pieces below.

Feeling like I was in a nightmare, I moved across to him, carefully stepping over the empty syringe lying at his feet. The boy made no response as I shook him by the shoulder, eyes closed and head lolling against the wall. Stricken, I grabbed at his arm, trying to avert my gaze from the fresh track mark that had scabbed over in the skin. His wrist was thin and feverishly hot to the touch, relief flowing through me as his pulse jumped sluggishly against the pads of my fingers.

He was alive. Pulling his limp body to mine, I hugged him tightly, tears of relief sliding down my face and into the prickly stubble of his hair. He made a murmuring sound, and I sobbed harder just to have heard his voice at all. Panic subsiding, a different emotion that had been festering silently beneath the chaos began to rear it's ugly head. It tore at me, pulled me left and right as all the contrasting emotions contained in my body battled for dominance. There were so many things to say to him and yet only two words which my mouth could form.

"You promised," I managed to say, choking past the scratchiness of tears and my own bitter disappointment that we were both here, in this place, without hope of a second chance at it all.

He didn't answer and I didn't expect him to, not for a few more hours at least. It felt like a terrible reenactment of our mutual childhood as I strained to pull his much larger body from the toilet seat and onto the bathroom floor, heaving him towards the door with my arms hooked under his shoulders. As I dragged Lou's deadweight through the opening I began to sweat from the effort, beads of moisture springing up across my forehead and upper lip. Scrawny arms trembling, back aching, I tried to push him up and onto his bed as gently as possible, lying him on his side with pillows tucked behind him so that he didn't choke on his own vomit in his sleep.

_Just like he taught you to do for mum._

It hurt too much to stay in that space with the ghosts and the bogeymen, and I turned from Lou and fled from all the things I was afraid of. Out into the trailer park with the moon a faint blur behind the thick layer of clouds, heartbeat in my mouth as I tried to inhale past it. I walked fast, directionless through the fairground all closed up for night; abandoned booths and motionless rides eerie in the dark. It looked like a place I was revisiting, years from now, once everyone had grown too sad and too bitter to play at carnivals anymore. Things flickered at the edges of my vision, faces seeming to watch from behind stalls and figures walking just out of sight, and I quickened my pace until I reached the entrance gates.

Something made me stop, pulling me back from leaving and rendering me rooted to the spot. For a moment I grasped for what exactly it was that was the cause, before I ashamedly realised why; that although I did not intend it to be so, if I were to leave now I would never return. If I walked out of those gates, I would keep walking and keep walking until this place was too far for me to ever come back to. I would never be able to return to a husk-like version of Lou, nor a heartbroken Birdie. I would never see 2D again. Everything that created warmth in the world would be as unreachable as all the stars I could not see, hidden beneath the blanket of the stormy night sky.

Unable to escape yet too sickened to go back to the caravan, I climbed the carousel, standing on one of the gold painted horses saddles to grab a hold of the edge of the roof and haul myself up onto it. Settling on the slope, I laid on my back and looked up at the clouds that were swollen and heavy with oncoming rain. The air was cold and slightly damp against my skin, the wind picking up every now and then to bring goosebumps rising along the surface as I lay there holding my heart and hoping for something good.

Time passed slowly, tracked only by the movement of the clouds in the overcast sky and the collection of cigarette butts that started to amass as I stubbed them out beside me. Sleep soothed it's hands over my eyes, pulling down the lids and me with them into a semi-state of consciousness. As I dozed I listened to the high pitched whine of the wind past my ears, drifting in and out of being.  
I was almost entirely asleep when snippets of conversation began to be carried over to me by the breeze, too muffled to understand until there was the sudden scraping noise of the rotary after-hours gate and the voices became louder and clearer.

"... and that's why I don't get the whole E.D.M scene," a female voice was saying, her East London accent thick enough that it took me a second to understand her.

Sitting bolt upright in alarm, I looked down to see that for the second night in a row 2D was swaggering across the grass past the carousel with a gorgeously dressed woman at his side. She was small but curvy, lips flashing brightly red as she chatted to the blue-haired boy, who for his part no longer seemed to be paying attention to her. His head was turned, gaze focused on the rooftop of the carousel, and it was as I popped up into view that he broke out into a wide grin.

"Not so  _low_  tonight, Low Slow?" he interrupted his companion mid-sentence to ask, before wheezing at his own terrible joke. I rolled my eyes at him from above, whilst the woman whipped her head around in confusion.

"What? Who're you talking to?" she asked, before she finally noticed me as she craned her neck to look up, "Who's that?"

"Oh, lemme introduce you; this s'my friend Sloane," 2D slurred, seeming slightly more drunk than usual.

I smiled at the girl and offered her a meek wave, calling out a lame "hey."

"... and Sloane, this is..." 2D tried to continue, gesturing to the lady beside him with a faltering hand as he trailed off, clearly unable to remember her name.

"Janey," she supplied, and he smiled sheepishly.

"Sloane, this is Jamie," he finished quickly.

_"Janey."_

"Wha-? Oh sorry, this is Jamely," 2D corrected, earning himself a double eye roll from both the woman and myself.

"Nice to meet ya," I said to put the dopey boy out of his misery, and Janey gave me a curt nod before turning her attention back to 2D, who was deep in thought.

"Jangly."

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing as he proudly announced his final guess for what the woman's name was, despite having been told twice. Janey for her part looked livid, any previous patience with 2D very much wearing thin.

"That's not even an actual  _name_ ," she snapped, and I snorted from the effort to contain my laugh. At the noise her head whipped around to glare at me, and taking it the wrong way she hissed, "This is funny is it?"

"No," I denied, before smirking, "It's not funny at all, Jangly."

The Lou-side of me watched amusedly as she seethed, but before she could make a retort, 2D obliviously interrupted.

"So, how's the view from up there tonight?" He asked casually, black eyes flicking between Janey and I whilst a cheeky smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

_Is he asking me if I think his date is hot...?_

"You were far better dressed last night," I replied breezily, refusing to play the game with his rules. His brow wrinkled, lips forming a pout before that same easygoing grin reappeared as I shook my head at the sloppiness of his manners.

"I fink I look real nice," 2D argued, holding his long arms out from his body as if to further model the long black suit jacket he wore over a dark waistcoat, his white collared shirt and tie peeking out from under the "v" it created over his chest. His legs looked ridiculously long in his schoolboy grey slacks, his sock-less ankles visible just above the brown leather tops of his oxfords.

"You look like a toff," I snorted, pretending to be unimpressed, "What kind of radge wears a waistcoat?"

"S'my new teddy boy style," The boy protested, wounded at my criticism, "I'm bringin' it back."

"Bring back that tight fitting white tee instead," I advised, thinking back to the first time I'd ever ran in to him after work. At my words his Cheshire Cat-like smile flashed in the dark.

"So you noticed it was tight fitting then?"

"Although this has been lovely, I think I'll be heading home now," Janey announced, diving in before I could formulate a mock-outraged response. 2D turned to her in surprise, his jaw falling slightly open in a way that wasn't entirely flattering.

"Home? I fought you were comin' back wiv me?" He asked slowly, as if worried he had missed some piece of vital information. I felt like telling him he'd actually just missed the point.

"Yes, well..." The woman trailed off, seemingly too fed up to even come up with an excuse. She straightened her skirt before stalking off across the grass, 2D swivelling on the spot to watch her go.

She shoved her way through the exit gate forcefully and disappeared from view, leaving the both us staring at the empty space she left behind for a moment. Turning back to 2D, I found him scratching his head in complete confusion at his companion's sudden departure, still looking at the gate.  
Feeling more than a little guilty at the part I played in ruining his night, I slid down from my perch on the roof, before dropping the final three metres between me and the ground. I landed beside him with a light thump that jerked the boy from his reverie. He was still looking into the distance when he spoke, just the hint of frown creasing the skin between his brows.

"Why is it every time you show up I end up losing the girl?"

The question was rhetorical but I was quick to answer it anyway.

"Oh, you haven't lost her just yet," I smirked, "But I'll be sure to let you know the moment you do."

He arrested me with those large dark eyes of his, sending a shiver down my spine as a smile began to play across his lips.

"I'll hold you to that, Sloane McLeod," The boy said slowly, like it was a promise, like it was a threat. He squinted one eye to look at me, as if trying to figure something out, before reaching out to cup my face in one of his large hands. The breath hitched in my throat as he leant closer, smelling deliciously of oranges and alcohol, and murmured soft in my ear, "I'll hold you to that."

My eyelids fluttered closed, heart beating wildly at the proximity of his face to mine, before he drew back and released me from his grasp. My face flushed the length of where his skin had pressed against it, and I opened my eyes to see him standing back, hands in his pockets and face unreadable.

"Goodnight Sloane," he said with a tired sort of affection, then left towards the trailer park, leaving me to stand alone with the motionless circle of horses and the chaotic turbulence of my thoughts.

_He leans in as if maybe, just maybe, he might kiss me and then just as quickly disappears. I can't tell if he knows what he's doing or if he's entirely oblivious to how I feel._

_How **do**  you feel?_

I didn't know anymore.

The night stretched on ahead, the clouds sinking until they burst open in hard angry spatters that quickly soaked me to the bone. I ran for shelter under the carousel roof, leaning dripping against a pearlescent steed whilst the storm broke out in earnest. The wind bit into wet skin, shivers rattling down the length of my spine as I squinted out into the downpour.

There seemed to be a shape in the distance, walking past the main gate and over to the employee after-hours entrance. For a moment I thought it might be the poor woman Janey returned for a second shot, when I realised the figure was too tall and thin.  The red top of their umbrella flapped in the gale, obscuring their face as they walked through the rotating door and into the fairgrounds. At first I thought they would obliviously pass me by as they strode along the main walkway, but then they suddenly changed direction, coming straight towards me.

Alarm cut sharply through me, a knife drawn from stomach to sternum and everything spilling outwards. Backing away, my legs itched to run, arms flying out to steady myself in my racing stance. Through the rain I could see their mud flecked legs stepping lightly through the puddles, feet bare on the wet grass.

My fear subsided almost immediately as I realised it could only be Birdie, who's eternal struggle against the use of shoes had her almost perpetually barefooted. I stepped forward, right to the edge of shelter and reached out to her through the rain. The umbrella lifted so I could see her face finally, eyes wide and stricken with worry. The girl pulled me in close to her by my outstretched arms, the two of us huddling together beneath the flimsy red dome.

"Slo-baby, why are you out here in the cold?" Birdie asked gently, using the sleeve of her dry sweater to wipe the rain droplets from my face as she checked me over for damage. 

At first I ducked away and batted off her motherly hands out of old habit, but soon stilled, relaxing into the fussing touch as I realised how lovely it felt. She smoothed a cooling hand over the bruising lump at my temple, still tender to the touch after my collision with the bathroom mirror, before frowning as she drew back with speckles of dried blood trapped in the grooved prints of her fingertips. She seemed about to ask something when I involuntarily shivered in the cold, and she was snapped from her train of thought.

"You'll catch your death out here," the girl chided, juggling the umbrella expertly as she slid off her jumper and handed it to me.

"Thanks Birdie," I mumbled, feeling guilty for taking it even as I pulled the warm article of clothing over my head. I was too cold to argue, and knowing her she wouldn't take no for an answer. The soft folds of material smelt comfortingly of her floral perfume.

"Let's get you home."

Together we walked through the heavy rain, thunder occasionally rumbling overhead like the growl of some terrible beast. Along the way back to the caravan I told her about the day's events, starting with Lou's disappearance from The Switchback that morning. It seemed like forever ago that I'd sat and smoked rolled cigarettes with 2D, like re-watching footage of a previous life as opposed to remembering something from only hours before.  
                  Having to almost shout to be heard over the storm, my voice trembled and cracked as I described how Lou had looked in the bathroom.

"It was like he had been drained of all the life in him," I finished finally, tears pricking at my eyes despite how angrily I tried to blink them away, "And I don't know how to help him to get it back."

"You don't have to, Slo. It's up to him to make the decision to help himself," Birdie murmured, dipping to kiss me on the crown of my head.

She took the caravan key from my jittery hands, sliding it into the lock and twisting the handle with an audible click. Legs refusing to move, I could only stand and watch as she walked into that private version of hell brave and alone, her head held high and pale face set like marble.  
                 I had never adored her so much as I did in that moment, with courage to rival Lou's and the strength of knowing how to be kind; something I was yet to learn.

After a few moments of hyperventilated breathing I followed her inside, turning the corner of the door frame to see her sitting on the edge of Lou's bed with her gentle hands smoothing along his skull. The boy for his part was fast asleep, not even stirring at the loving touch as his chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

"He's going to kill me one day," Birdie told me, her large brown eyes never leaving Lou's face, "He'll break my heart so bad it'll simply stop beating."

"Then I'll just resuscitate you; I know CPR," I replied jokingly, ignoring the way her words made my own heart ache at the terrible waste of it all. 

She laughed, face lighting up as the light breathy sound was pulled from between her lips. I gave her a crooked smile, before wading through the mess to sit on my bed directly opposite her. As I began to pull off my sodden shoes, she spoke again, this time looking at me.

"You're just like him, you know."

"Lou? No way," I protested, incredulous that she could think that of me, adding, "He's the strongest person I know. He's fearless and selfless and I'm... not. Just not."

"Slo, there's many kinds of bravery in this world; yet there is a certain courageousness you both share," Birdie said gently, reaching across the space to take my hand. I ignored the way my skin prickled where it was pressed to hers, still enjoying the small point of physical connection.

"What is it?" I found myself asking, brow furrowing in confusion.

"The bravery of love, despite knowing how much it can hurt."

I blinked, surprised. Birdie kissed my knuckles quickly before letting go of my hand, moving from her place next to Lou and over to the kitchenette. She cracked her toes against the floor as she filled up the kettle and set it to boil, turning back to me with a wry smile.

"You also tell jokes the exact same way," she added, crinkles appearing at the outer corners of her eyes as she grinned, "As if the McLeod family heirloom is a manual for sarcastic comedy."

"Hmph," I grumbled, flicking one of my wet socks at her while she dodged out of the way with a giggle.

Birdie made us both a cup of tea whilst I changed into dry clothes, placing my dirty wet ones in the bucket of water and detergent I had been using to hand-wash our laundry in. As I came back over to the kitchenette I accepted the steaming mug from Birdie's hand, the both of us returning to our seats across from each other. Lou said something incomprehensible in a dream, and there was a small splashing sound as a teardrop plopped into my cup. Reaching up to touch my cheeks, my hand came back wet and I stared at the moisture as it glinted under the lights.

I didn't want to have this version of my brother, this sick and sleeping stranger who broke promises _my_  Lou would have kept. I swallowed back the misery of it all, trying not to drown as I realised the Lou I knew was soon to be a ghost of the past.

_Then think of the past._

"Can you tell me a good story or something, Birdie? The best one you have," I requested meekly, knowing which one she would tell even before I asked.

"The very best one? You've heard it before," the girl teased, steam rising in delicate coils from the cup at her lips.

"Please?"

"Alright, Slo, if you insist," she laughed, before clearing her throat and beginning, "Well as you know, my best story is the one of the day I first met your brother."

I grinned and drew my legs up to hug them, nodding along to her calm and even voice as she continued.

"It was the beginning of school term at COMART, just after they first renamed the damn place, and I was sitting in the Year 7 home room. I remember I was by myself at the front of the room, right by the door, and reading a book while everyone else was meeting each other and making friends. I wasn't nervous, just not particularly in a rush to introduce myself to anyone seeing as it was only the first day of secondary school and we'd all be stuck together for years."

"Too bad Lou had other ideas," I interrupted, smirking as she laughed and shushed me. I pretended to zip shut my lips and waited patiently for her to get to the good part.

"You're right though," Birdie agreed, "Lou definitely wasn't prepared to go along with my chilled plans. Even at age eleven he was a precocious bastard. I was sitting there reading this book and we were all waiting for our teacher to mark the attendance roll when this boy appeared in the doorway, very late and clearly not giving a shit about the fact."

She smiled, closing her eyes as she reminisced, and I couldn't help but wonder how it all looked in the golden-lit space of her mind.

"He wasn't wearing his uniform tie, his shirt was untucked, and he was wearing these ratty adidas trainers instead of school shoes. Back then he used to have a shaggy mop of hair too, as black as yours, Slo, and freckles across his nose."

"A real schemie bastard kid," I interjected, providing a succinct summary of what the girl had just described. Birdie laughed and shook her head, long red hair swaying with the movement.

"He was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen," she sighed, looking down lovingly at the much older version of the boy asleep by her side, before adding with an eye roll, "And the most provoking. Our teacher, this big angsty oaf of a guy called Mr Benson, made some comment about how Lou had already not started off his year well, and the boy straight up made a comeback along the lines of how he personally felt that seeing as he hadn't started off the year being employed at a shithole like that school he was in fact starting it off rather well."

"Classic motormouth remark," I muttered, smirking at the image of a tiny eleven-year-old Lou slamming a teacher with such savage backchat.

"Mr Benson went this odd purple colour and started spluttering, and Lou just kind of gave him this look of over-the-top pretend concern before turning to little reclusive me sitting there at the front row desk and said, 'Oh deary me, thae man seems tae be chokin. Do ya know thae Heimlich?'" Birdie described animatedly, imitating my brother's accent as she quoted him. 

We laughed together for a moment, the two of us holding half-empty chipped mugs and our own useless wishes for the boy to awaken in pallid trembling hands.

"Is that when you knew he was gonna be someone special?" I asked quietly as our mirth faded into silence, and the girl thought hard for a moment before nodding.

"Not for sure - no one can ever be certain about these things - but I definitely felt this almost instant yearning to know him, to spend any time I could with him. I'd never experienced it with anyone before," she explained slowly, as if still figuring it out herself. I thought for a moment, wondering whether or not to say what was on my mind, before diving in.

"That's how I feel when I'm around 2D," I confessed, feeling as if I had just unloaded a hefty weight from my shoulders as Birdie sat back, considering my words with a faraway expression.

Finally she leaned forward once more, poking out her tongue childishly as she said, "I knew it: you love men who are all legs and no eyes."

"He  _has_  eyes!" I whined, taking the bait before I could stop myself. Birdie burst out laughing at my quick defence of the blue haired boy, and I pouted whilst playfully swiping my hands at her as if attempting to slap away the amusement. Suddenly realising her choice of wording I paused, adding hastily, "I don't love him either."

"You don't? Well that's a relief," She repeated,her eyebrows slightly raised and the trace of a knowing smile playing across her lips.

"Definitely not. I don't even know what being in love feels like," I declared, my words sounding overly condemning in the confines of the ruined space. Birdie's eyes flicked from mine to the sleeping Lou's face, her throat visibly working as she swallowed.

"It feels warm," the girl told me, her gaze tracing tenderly over my brother as she spoke, "Sometimes it feels so warm it's like an ache in your chest, and sometimes it's the colour red, but for me it's always been exactly like meeting Lou for the first time; partly funny, partly unexpected, but most of all it's the feeling of wanting more of someone for as long as they as they are willing."

  
\--------------------

I remained distant from 2D the next day, arriving to open up the booth incredibly late after having had an intense argument with Lou and Birdie that morning.

Lou had sat up at the booth table, mug of black coffee growing cold as he stared at it instead of either of our faces. His eyes were ringed with bruise-like circles, blinking fast as he flinched away from any sudden movements, including his girlfriend's comforting hand as she reached out for his shoulder.

"You don't understand," was all he said, hugging himself with his scrawny arms.

"Lulu, you know it's no good," Birdie coaxed gently, sitting down at his side.

"It is though; it's even better than good," Lou sighed, shifting ever so slightly away from her.

The movement was small, so tiny it was barely perceptible, but she must have felt it. I watched helplessly as the girl reeled back as if she'd been struck, her pale face openly registering a shocked sense of hurt. My brother hunched is shoulders at her reaction, grey eyes flickering about the room to land on anything other than the wound he had dealt her.  
                     My anger was red hot as it seeped into my veins, bringing the blood to the boil.

"Get fucked, Lou," I snapped, unleashing the pent-up rage, spitting the disappointment and frustration from my mouth so viciously that the both of them glanced up at me in fright. Guided forward by the leash of my fury I continued, "You watched our mother put that poison into her veins every fucking morning and night. You watched it turn her into an empty shell instead of a person and yet here we are, with you throwing your life away just the same."

"Throwing my life away...?" Lou repeated quietly, before he finally met my gaze as his voice rose to an angry yell of his own, "Look at us, look at where and what we are! A twenty-five year old drug dealer and his little carnie sister, selling skag for only half the final cut and living in a shithole caravan. They took mum away just before my final exams and I left school with GCSE results of next to nothing; too stupid to work at even a petrol station and too unqualified to be hired for any trade. There's no path other than the one I'm on, no miracles that can change our current circumstances no matter how hard or how long we work for it."

My mouth was dry as I made a noise of protest, before he interrupted me to deliver his final blow, one which would drive itself into the very marrow of my bones and sit cancerous within there for as long as I lived; we just didn't know it yet. A truth like a double edged blade driven between us both, lacerating skin and splitting tendon until the muscles learned to move even with the pain.

"I already threw my entire life away, Slo. For you."

We had looked at each other, Birdie's horrified gasp echoing out into the silence as everything went up in smoke. I knew the words I needed to say but I didn't want to have to speak them, didn't want to put them out there in the world and be unable to snatch them quickly back. Breathing deeply, I turned from them and walked to the doorway, pausing as I pulled it open and glared into the overcast day beyond.  
                  Glaring back at my brother, he looked like a stranger with misery so openly spread across his face that for a moment I hesitated, unsure. The caravan was still a ruined mess, shards of mirror glass littered the bathroom floor, and there he sat, telling me it was my fault and mine alone that everything was too broken to fix.

"When did you become exactly like  _her?_ " I asked him, the words bitter across my tongue as they left it. We all watched them roll along the cluttered floor and come to rest at his feet, heavy and dripping poison.

And then I was gone, out the door and sprinting for the fairgrounds beyond in the hopes that perhaps if I was good enough, perhaps if I ran fast enough, I could escape the grief of losing everyone before they'd even left.

2D had waved cheerily at me as I'd walked up to the sideshow booths, yet I found myself unable to respond with any of the usual joy I'd feel at his greeting. My entire body felt numb, my mind echoing with flatline thoughts and deadpan commentary. As I worked in the  _Quick-Shot Clown Pop_  I was for the first time ambivalent towards whether it received customers or not, staring without sight across the boulevard to The Switchback beyond.   
                    I glared at the ride until Lou showed up for late his shift, at which point I turned from the sight, my stomach twisting sickeningly.

Skin prickling with uneasy anger and guilt, I stumbled out the back door, reaching habitually for my cigarettes as I did so. I lit it before looking up, jumping a little when I came face to face with 2D sitting expectantly at our makeshift break area from the day before. He'd added an extra milk-crate to act as a table between our two seats, upon which perched a homemade sandwich in a ziplock bag and a couple of coca-cola cans that were beaded with glistening condensation.

"'Ello," he greeted me, finishing rolling his cigarette with a swipe of his tongue before his black eyes seemed to properly register the look of anguish on my face. 

"Oh, uh, hi," I mumbled, quickly trying to reset my expression into one of neutrality as I sat down. He twiddled his fingers against each other, uncomfortable, before gesturing to the sandwich and drinks sitting between us.

"I never see you eatin' enough so I made you some lunch," He explained in a fluster, adding with a sheepish grin, "I dunno if you like peanut butter but everyfing else in the fridge had gone off."

Blinking in honest surprise, I managed a small stuttered, "thank you," before I hungrily accepted the food offering. The bread was wholemeal and soft with the crusts cut off wonkily, and I smiled at his handiwork before biting in. 2D smiled wide and toothy as I chewed, mouth completely full so that I had to give him the thumbs up to say it was good. He cracked open both of the coke cans, the dark carbonated liquid within hissing as it kissed the air, and handed me one before lighting the rollie.  
                       We sat in comfortable silence for a time before the overcast sky began spitting light rain down over the carnival, misting over our hair and faces like the dewy droplets of condensation on the drink in my hand.

Dropping the butt of the cigarette into his empty can with a wet fizzle, 2D unfurled his lanky legs from their seated position and stood. He brushed himself down tiredly, then absent-mindedly offered me his hand. I slipped my palm against his much larger, calloused one, and was hauled to my feet like I weighed nothing more than a child.

"I'll see you tonight, yeah?" The boy said by way of farewell, releasing my me as I nodded dazedly.

_He's so..._

I couldn't finish the thought, still as unable to decode his actions as I'd been from the first moment I met him. He was supposedly stupid, yet still had a thoughtful insight that made him kind and caring in ways I never expected. I clutched the yellow and red striped material over my heart, smiling wide as I watched him return to the ring toss booth.

_Stay away from that guy Slo, I don't know what he is but it isn't good news._

Lou's warning from our first day at the carnival cut through the warm glow of my thoughts, the memory of the flat coldness in his voice causing me to shiver. Why was it that everyone was so sure of something they knew nothing about? My brother, Birdie, even Mr Pot; all of them were fixated on the idea that 2D was dangerous, untrustworthy and too slow to be counted upon.

                   Returning to work, the question continued to turn over and over in my brain, all through the rest of the day and deep into the afternoon. 

It was only as I guiltily sold a pair of gaunt older girls a fold of skag that I realised the answer, standing miserable and tired in the sideshow booth with the sun sinking the day into gloom. The night crowd was beginning to flock through the fairgrounds, school kids chattering and calling out to each other excitedly whilst parents grudgingly forked out money to their sweetly smiling children. 

_Maybe 2D and I... just fit together. Like we were always meant to be friends and just took this long to find each other._

The thought was overly tender, romanticising a world I had always known to be anything but. The cynical, hating part of my brain tried to crush it instantly, clawing at the idea with jagged hooklike words for nails that read out a list of why I wasn't worth enough to be a special connection for anyone.  
                    In softly cupped hands I held the thought out of reach of that ceaseless negativity, raising it above my head so that it might survive against all odds. It sat in my palms, glowing with a warmth I could scarcely dare to feel whilst just across the way my brother suddenly stood up from his seat at The Switchback control panel, stretched his arms slowly, and left his post. The large and sweaty boy who had taken over 2D's position collecting the ticket stubs made a loud protest as Lou walked past him, but Lou only curled his lip in a sneer before sauntering off into the growing dark.

He would be blissfully high by the time I finished work for the night. It was one thing I knew for sure in the world, with the same certainty that I knew after it was all said and done that the sun would still rise. I didn't want to have to come back to find him that sick, to find him like the broken promise he had become and put him to bed like I had too many nights in a row now.  
                   Feeling trapped, I began to panic at the thought of the night ahead, before a voice sliced through the agitated thoughts like a knife and rendered them deathly silent.

_Don't go home then. Go to the carousel._

\-------------------

That third night he arrived earlier than he had before, walking through the gate alone and already smiling up at me in the dark.

"Just you tonight?" I called, confused that no companion trailed after him.

"Just me."

2D stood slouched at the base of the carousel, his hands fisted in the pockets of his overcoat as he craned his neck to look up at me from where I sat on the edge of the roof, my legs dangling over the side. For a moment he faltered, then the boy stepped up onto the ride platform and reached up, his fingers just brushing the edge of the slanted roof. I reached down and took a hold of his thin wrist, heaving my full weight backwards as I tried to assist him with his climb, but only managed to unbalance the lanky legged man so that nearly fell.

"ahhhhFUCK!" 2D yelped, scrabbling for a better hold on the roof,  before I let go and he dropped with a loud thump to the grass below.

"Sorry," I called down to him, grinning sheepishly when he waved his hand in mildly embarrassed dismissal.

"Not ta worry; I'm a clumsy oaf," the boy laughed, causing me to frown at him as he tried for a second time to clamber onto the roof. Once he was successfully beside me, he laid back, panting slightly as he muttered, "That takes more effort than I fought."

"You're not a clumsy oaf, ya radge," I chided him gently, nudging my elbow into his shoulder when he sighed in response.

"Well, that's what Murdoc used ta call me. Well, that and 'Face-ache' but I dunno what that even means," 2D explained with a sigh, eyes on the sky above instead of mine.

"Murdoc is your bandmate, yeah?" I checked slowly, to which he nodded, blue hair flopping with the movement. Frowning, I tried to tread carefully as I commented, "No offence Stu but the guy sounds like a cunt."

He burst out in a loud laugh at my words, before going pale and rushing to protest, "Nah nah he's not that bad. I owe him everyfing, you know? I was nothin' and going nowhere until he hit me wiv his car."

"He hit you with his  _car?_ " I exclaimed incredulously, sitting bolt upright to look at the boy. 2D fidgeted uncomfortably before responding.

"Well I've made it sound like he did it on purpose, but I dunno if he meant to. At least the first time. I fink the second time he probably didn't mean to either."

"HE HIT YOU WITH HIS CAR  _TWICE??_ " I cried out, my voice squeaking as I tried to process the information. The car accidents must have been the traumatic blows to the head that Mr Pot had been talking about that day when he'd caught us operating The Switchback ride. 2D shuffled then finally looked at me, black gaze heavy lidded.

"Yeah, that's why I have all this black old blood in my eyes an' missing teef and stuff," he murmured, self conscious and melancholy as I'd never seen him before.

I reached out a hand and placed it softly on his stomach, gentle as I asked, "Is that why you get the headaches too?"

The boy nodded, shutting his eyes at my touch. I could feel the hard washboard of his abdomen rising up and down as he breathed, skin feverishly hot through the white cotton of his shirt. We sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again, this time with a forced cheeriness that had my heart twisting painfully.

"He did me a favour though! Even though I'm all slow in the head he let me sing lead in Gorillaz an' make music that the whole world has heard," he assured me, smiling as he mentioned the band he had up until recently been a part of.

_He must really love it to be able to put up with that abuse just to be able to make music._

"Do you miss them all? Your bandmates?" I asked, suddenly curious to hear more about the people 2D spoke so fondly of.

"Yeah, I really do. I miss Russell, our drummer, who's kinda this big scary dude but also a really nice guy when you get ta know him, and I even miss grumpy ol' Mudz sometimes. But I fink I miss Noodle the most of them all," the boy rambled, gaze softening as he named each band member in turn.

"Noodle?" I prompted, glad to see he was slowly cheering up.

"She's amazing," 2D exclaimed, hands tracing pictures as he tried to explain his friend to me, "She's this little Japanese girl who got mailed ta us one day out of the blue. Turned up on the doorstep in a big crate an' turned out ta be the best guitar player I've ever met. She was only small but, so we kinda all had ta try and raise her a bit."

"Like three dads?"

"Ahh no, no," 2D was quick to deny, before adding slowly, "At least not me. I fink if we were a normal family I'd be like her big brother or somefink. Like you and Lou."

At the mention of my brother I winced, but 2D luckily didn't notice as he continued on obliviously.

"Actually, that's what I always fink when I see you guys together; about how me an' Lou are both so lucky ta have such great sisters an' how I fink we're more alike than he realises," he babbled, lilting voice scratching as it rose and fell in pitch.

"Mmm," was all I managed to respond with, lying back on the roof beside him to look up at the cloudy sky. I could feel his gaze on my cheek as he glanced over at me but I refused to meet his eye.

"He's usin' again, yeah?" He asked gently, and I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat before answering.

"Aye."

"Is that why you were so upset today?" The boy coaxed, surprising me that he'd noticed I'd been withdrawn that day at all. I turned my head to look at him, our faces inches apart in the dark.

Thinking hard to try and summarise the myriad of complex thoughts and feelings that had been bothering me all day, I paused a while before I finally said, "Both that and also doing the skag deals. I hate knowing I'm ruining someone's life for profit. I hate supporting the fuckin tragedy of it all. It makes me feel like I'm the lowest scum to have ever crawled into this place and it's even worse knowing that pretty soon we'll get moved on from here to somewhere else with higher heroin demand."

"Why don't you just not do it?" He asked, slowly, as if worried he'd sound stupid.

"Just not do deals?" I repeated his words like a question, perplexed by the idea.

"Yeah. You could stay here instead. We could be happy."

I shook my head sadly, "We know too much. DeWitt won't let us stop. Our mum was his right hand woman for a time. She only got out by going  _in_. For kids like us? The solution is a lot simpler."

We lay there together and stared up into the dark, silence settling down around us like a cocoon. Silken threads of private thought wound tightly around our bodies, blending the aches of Lou and of Noodle, the terror of DeWitt, and the abusive words of Murdoc, into one shared burden.

It felt lighter, easier to carry that way, but as the chrysalis closed in over our heads I couldn't help but wonder that when we emerged what we might have become.


	9. 1.8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to flag for anyone triggered by violence against women or sexual assault that is either implied or threatened that there will be a scene in this chapter containing that content, starting after the line "I didn't keep any. That's all of it."

Over the days that followed, Lou became increasingly absent from the fairgrounds, spending more and more time laid out unconscious across his tiny bed in the caravan. Despite our repeated pleas for him to stop shooting up, neither Birdie nor I could do or say anything that would prevent the same wearying discovery of his blissfully unconscious form upon our return home. To escape the heartbreaking sight I often found myself avoiding heading back to the trailer park after work for as long as possible, waiting instead on the carousel roof for 2D to return from town. Some nights he still would have a gorgeous girl at side, but increasingly he came back alone and we would sit together up on the rooftop until the early hours of the morning.   
Between late nights talking with 2D, returning to my bed across from a dreamily high Lou, and tiring repetitive conversations begging my brother to become clean, I soon developed dark bruises beneath my eyes that mirrored the both of them. An increasingly exhausted Birdie sneakily replaced Lou on many of his shifts, moving back and forth between filling in for her wayward boyfriend and her post inside the information booth repeatedly over the course of the day so as not to raise Mr Pot's suspicion.

It was a tightrope juggling act, everything hanging so tenuously in the balance that one false move could have all of us tumbling into the abyss below.

As I packed up the  _Quick-Shot Clown Pop_ for the day I caught sight of Birdie from across the grass walkway, her usually light and graceful footfalls reduced to a clumsy gait as she climbed down from The Switchback control panel. With a warm smile of thanks to the portly ticket collection boy, she passed him a ten pound note for his cooperation before moving briskly away towards the entry gate and it's currently unmanned information desk.

"Birdie!" I called out to her, gaining a weak smile in return as she obligingly approached, "You look exhausted."

"I am, all this rushing to and fro is starting to drain me," she replied, running a hand down the side of her face with a yawn.

A twinge of guilt itched the back of my neck, and I busied myself with unhooking the rest of the prize toys as I responded, "I want to say you deserve better than this, but I think I'm too scared you'll wise up and leave me."

Birdie laughed mirthlessly, a shocking and unnatural sound in comparison to her usual carefree giggle. I flinched back from the coldness in her expression, and immediately her doe-eyed gaze softened, filling with tears.

"I'm so sorry Slo," she whispered, reaching out to tuck a ragged lock of hair behind my ear, "You know I love you, but it's just been so hard lately. Between Grandma getting sick and now Lou... I don't know what to do."

We looked at each other for a moment with absolutely nothing to say, as the futility of it all sat like a slowly expanding distance between us. I wanted to take a hold of her, vicelike, and never let the girl go. I wanted to stand on tippy toes to kiss the crown of her head like she always did mine and promise everything would be alright. I wanted these things so desperately and yet found myself incapable of doing anything except murmuring into the mounting silence.

"I don't know what to do either."

A pitiful phrase, a waste of words, yet Birdie knew me too well to take offence; instead she took me by the hands and squeezed them in her own, lips rolled into a thin sad line.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised, giving my hands one last comforting squeeze before releasing me and turning away.

As she set off once more towards the info kiosk, I called out to her.

"Are you coming over after we close?"

"I can't, I have to pick Grandma up from the hospital," Birdie replied over her shoulder, before waving and disappearing into the crowd.

With a sigh I returned to packing up the booth, rolling down the metal shutter with a loud clang once I'd finally finished for the day.  
If Birdie wasn't going to be coming back to the caravan with me then there'd be no one to watch over Lou unless I stayed, meaning 2D and I couldn't meet on the carousel later tonight. The realisation left me feeling bitter, a frown pressing wrinkles into the skin of my forehead even as I tried not to be disappointed. When had my brother gone from being my favourite person to spend time with to being one of my least?

_Probably around the same time he started shooting up skag every day._

The frown warped into a scowl, and I shoved the thought away viciously. It wasn't truly that I didn't want to be around him, it was just that seeing him so sickly and strung out was miserable. I wanted my brother back, but until he returned I had to take careful care of the hopelessly twisted version of the present.

Setting off across the grass, I swung my jangling keys idly on their clip as I wove between the last of the thinning crowd on their way home. For a moment I thought I recognised one of 2D's girls, the first I ever saw him with from the top of the carousel, but as I tried to imagine her in the long yellow dress she'd been in that night the woman noticed me staring and ducked away with a frown. An odd flutter of discomfort in my stomach, I walked quickly on. Discarded food wrappers and plastic bags blew in the steady wind to fetch up against the sides of shuttered kiosks and the mesh security fences around closing rides, left carelessly by carnival goers.   
                      I kicked a stray can as I walked, watching the aluminium flash as it disappeared into the darkness ahead. I followed it, stepping to swing my foot at it once more before a sound stopped me, freezing me in place even as my legs tensed to flee.

"I can't wait to cut that little bitch the second we get there."

I recognised the voice instantly as that of the dim-witted Sticks, and crouched down in the shadows cast by the snow cone stand to my left as I watched him saunter past. Rem followed closely behind, more confident with less ego as he hushed his friend.

"Hey don't touch either of them as long as they pay up."

_Of course, its been a fortnight since we received the package of heroin; DeWitt will be wanting his money._

The two of them passed me by, blissfully unaware of how even just the sight of them brought my teeth clenching together, my hands curling into fists. The largest of the set of keys in my palm stuck out like a jagged makeshift knife as I stood slowly, watching them as they made their way to the back gate which read ' _Employees Only_ ' and looked around surreptitiously before disappearing through it.

_If they lay a hand on Lou it'll be the last mistake they ever make._

I set off at a hurried power walk, still bent slightly over as I crept up to the wooden trailer park gate. Laying the flat of my free hand against it I pushed it open only a tiny crack, peeping through to check if the coast was clear.  
The two men were up ahead, disappearing in and out of view between the pools of golden light cast by the driveway lamps. Focusing on the lightness of my step, I quickened my pace to an almost-run to keep up.

The gravel crunched and slid just a little too noisily under my feet, and I had to hang back for fear Rem and Sticks would hear my approach. Frustration pulled my eyebrows together in a scowl as I watched them reach the tiny caravan at the end of the row before me.

Rem reached out a fisted hand to knock in a repeated series of hard blows against the door, his skin almost looking entirely black in the half-light. Sticks stood on the steps behind him, waiting with his arms crossed as there was no response.

"Open up McLeod, or I'll fucking beat both this door  _and_  your face in," Rem demanded, patience wearing thin in a sudden snap. He slammed his knuckles against the door again, this time hard enough to shake it in its frame.

Throwing caution to the wind I broke into a flying sprint, covering the last of the distance between myself and the threatening DeWitt goons. Skidding to a halt in the loose gravel at the base of the steps, I felt my lips curl back in a snarl as the two men whirled to face me.  
Sticks sneered as he saw me, the ridge of his nose looking decidedly crooked much to my glee; the taller man behind him frowning slightly as his eyes flicked over my aggressive demeanour and crouched stance. For a few moments there was no sound, no movement, save for the brown gravel dust I'd disturbed sinking softly back around my feet.

"Well, well, iffit ain't our very own mute McLeod," Sticks jeered, arms unfurling from their cross over his chest to delve into his hoodie pockets instead, "I gots unfinished business wiv yew."

"Unfinished business is for ghosts ya dumb radge," I derisively remarked, voice dripping with contempt for the man as I channeled my brother.

"Yew broke me fuckin' nose," Sticks growled, expression growing thunderous as he withdrew a blade from his pocket, "Now I'm gunna knife yew up yah fuckin' cunt."

"Not really an eye for an eye then, is it?" I taunted, ignoring the way my pulse jumped in blind panic at the threat.

Sticks went to step towards me but Rem's sudden and vicelike grip on his shoulder prevented him from doing so. With a warning look towards his partner, the man then settled a steady gaze onto me.

"Enough of the bullshit. We're here for the money, little McLeod," He spoke sternly, yet I could hear the hint of a suppressed laugh curling at the ends of his words.

"Aye and I'll get it to ya, just move out of my fuckin' way," I reasoned, slowly rising to stand straight.

Getting a placid business transaction done with Sticks was entirely impossible, but Rem was at least rational enough to work with. Even as I moved out of the way for them to pass, Sticks stepped towards me threateningly before he was shoved away by his companion.  
Trying my best to breathe evenly against the tightness in my chest, I climbed the steps and slid my knife-like key into the door. The lock clicked, and I made a gesture for the two men to wait as I slipped inside.

Lou was sitting up in bed, conscious but clearly dazed as he looked up at me with a woozy smile. The sheets were rucked up around his bare feet, bare chest sheeny with sweat as it rose and fell with trembling breaths.

"Lou," I whispered, making my way over to him and kneeling down so we were eye-level, "Where've you put the skag money?"

"Mmm?"

I sighed at his sleepy lack of attention, grabbing his chin to turn his face to look at me. The silver in his eyes looked almost tarnished, bloodshot veins stretching out across the whites.

"Rem and Sticks are here to collect for DeWitt. Where's the money, Lou?" I repeated, staring into his half-lidded eyes as if the answer would be written there.

"Mmm, in... your pillowcase..." Lou murmured finally in response, smiling at me as he reached out to pat my face with a hand that moved so slowly it was like watching a film at half speed.

For a moment I placed my palm over his, holding the touch in place until it began to burn against my cheek. I adored him, but he made me so terribly sad, so uselessly and brokenly miserable.  
Releasing Lou from my hold I grabbed the pillow from my bed, sliding a tentative hand between the cotton cover and the cushion beneath. A fat wad of pound notes greeted me, and I pulled the entirety of it out.

Normally, the cash would be split in half, Lou and I keeping one share of it and handing over the other, but with a sinking feeling in my gut I realised this time it would not be the case; Lou had used too much of the product himself, meaning I had to subtract the amount we would have otherwise earned from the sale proceeds.   
Clenching my jaw, I counted out the cash into a neat pile, nerves causing my fingers to jump and the numbers to flicker from memory even as I tried to calculate the amount. We had never come up short before, and I was unsure as to what the consequences would be if we did.

Finally giving up entirely, I swallowed my anxiety and grabbed the stack, walking like one condemned back to the door. Outside, Rem and Sticks waited impatiently, their heads snapping up to watch as I descended the steps and offered the cash with a forced air of nonchalance. Rem eyed me suspiciously as he took it from my hand, stepping back to count it while Sticks hovered nearby like a slavering guard dog. I averted my eyes from them both, agitation prickling in little needles down my spine.

"Where's the rest of it?"

_Fuck._

I looked back to Rem, feigning mild surprise as I asked lightly, "What do ya mean? It's all there."

"Don't play with me, bitch," He snapped, his usual calm entirely absent, "You're over two hundred quid short. Where's the rest of it?"

"Oh uh, we didn't sell all the product in time," I tried to explain but the man was having none of it, stepping closer to tower over me threateningly.

"Then give us what we're missing out of your share," He demanded, voice like ice. His narrowed eyes met mine and I looked away, fear raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

These men were dangerous. These men wouldn't hesitate to hurt me if it meant sending a message to Lou; they'd made that abundantly clear the last time I'd seen them. I cleared my throat against the memory of Sticks's hand tight around it, but my voice still came out shaky and small when I finally answered.

"I didn't keep any. That's all of it."

Rem laughed, shaking his head as he shoved the wad of pound notes into an envelope and placed the package in his jacket pocket. Uneasy at his amusement, I stepped backwards from the two of them as they nodded at one another. A smirk began to curl the corners of Sticks's thin lips.

"That's just too bad then innit?" He sneered, and I took another involuntary step back.

"It is," Rem agreed, still nodding sagely, "It most certainly is."

"Mistah DeWitt is gunna be mighty upset when 'e don't get 'is money," Sticks taunted, a sickening grin spreading wide over his round face as he added, "... so I guess we just gunna haveta get our money's worth outta yew."

Terror flooded my mouth as he lunged for me, my body jerking backwards in an instinctual reflex faster than thought. His large meaty hands missed me by an inch, catching at empty air whilst I threw myself up the stairs and through the open doorway. Lou looked up in mild alarm as I slammed my body against the door to close it, a cry of fear ripping past my lips as I felt the opposing weight of Rem fall against mine. We struggled, my muscles splitting into agonising aches as I pushed with everything I had.

"LOU! HELP ME!" I yelled over my shoulder, the boy still sitting in a daydream. He frowned at the volume of my voice before relaxing back into the mattress as the drug in his system rendered him merely blissful.

"LOU -"

My next words were swallowed as Sticks added his strength to the outside of the door, sending me flying back as it swung violently open. I landed hard against the edge of the kitchenette, a gasp of pain knocked unwillingly from me before I felt two pairs of hands clamp themselves onto my legs and I was pulled screaming from the trailer, my eyes locking with Lou's for only a moment before his fluttered closed, the heroin finally dragging him into sleep.

_Lou._

Everything went static as the two attackers flung my body down the stairs, head colliding with each step hard enough to see stars until I was rolling onto the gravel. Dust billowed around, stinging my eyes and throat as I coughed hard, hands pushing to try and heave myself up from the dirt only to be kicked back down. Pain exploded in my side, hot and white and angry as one of their boots connected with my ribcage and I collapsed with a yelp.  
A hand fisted itself in my tangled hair and wrenched my face out of the dirt, body pushed roughly so I was on my back. I thrashed, eyes watering from the dragging on my scalp, but Rem held my legs forcefully immobile as Sticks sat on my stomach with his hefty weight. I lashed out with claws for fingers but only managed to scratch his neck before the man's sweaty hands encircled my wrists and slammed them to the ground either side of my head.

"Yah gunna regret that, bitch," he hissed, leering over me.

Staring at his piggy face, my mouth twisted into a wordless snarl in response. Without any hope to escape from his grip, I did the only thing I could; I spat into his eyes.

Sticks flinched as the frothy phlegm hit him squarely in the face, reeling back to wipe at his stinging eyeballs with an angry hand. As soon as I felt him release my arms I lashed out hard and fast, slamming my fist into his already broken nose whilst my other hooked around to punch him where I knew it'd hurt most.

The man bellowed in agony as his hands flew to his groin, falling sideways off me as he clutched at himself. I rolled out from under him, thrashing as hard as I could to break Rem's hold on my legs.   
There was a second of fumbling where I thought the man might have lost his grip, but then his hands tightened to vices around my ankles until I had to grit my teeth at the feeling of the bones about to snap.

"I admire your fighting spirit," He acknowledged, gaze flicking to where his friend lay still groaning in pain, "But you've only made things worse for yourself."

"Fuck you," I spat, fury turning the world to red as I pushed my upper body into a seated position to reach him, legs still held immobile in front of me.

My swipe missed, nails whipping past just a hairs breadth from his face yet leaving him unharmed nevertheless.

"You goddamn cunt," the man snapped, openly shocked at my violent attack.

I was just opening my mouth to growl an acidic response when suddenly my head was cracking to the side, ears ringing and face afire as Sticks smacked me hard across the cheek with the back of his hand. I cried out as my skull hit the gravel once more, earning me another vicious blow to the face from the furious man.

With sickening terror I felt his hands ripping at the fly of my jeans, meaty leg forcing itself between both of mine even as I tried to push him away. My scratching hands were caught all too easily in his own, and he grinned as he pulled the fingers back far enough to hear the joints crack over my screams of pain.

_Can no one hear me? Is no one going to come stop this? Lou? Please Lou...?_

"No no no no NO NO NO NO NO NO-"

But no one was coming and Sticks was yanking roughly at the waistband of my jeans to try and pull them down and then the vision was going cloudy as hopeless tears welled hot and stinging in my eyes.

"NO NO NO NO NO NO NO-"

A sweaty hand clamped down over my mouth, muffling my cries. Tears rolled down into my hairline as I blinked up at the man who sneered over me, his large yellow teeth filling my vision as he finally finished pulling my jeans out of his way and I realised no help was coming, none whatsoever.

"Get the fuck off her or I'll fucking gut you like a fish."

Sticks froze, head whipping towards the familiar voice that had so suddenly called out from the dark. With the man's meaty hand holding my head in place I couldn't turn to look, but I still smiled beneath the press of clammy palm as I instantly recognised who had spoken.

_I'd know your voice anywhere. Even in the dark, even in a nightmare._

"If yew know what's good fer yuh yew'll keep on walkin' mate," Sticks advised, sitting up as he addressed the source of interruption.

"I said get the fuck off her," the voice repeated, flat with anger and icy threat.

"Or what?" Rem demanded, releasing my legs to stand imposingly.

"I fink I already explained that part? I'll gut you like a fish?" 2D's disembodied voice came again, and I grinned savagely through my tears at the sweet sound of it.

_Your legs are free, Sloane McLeod, what're you gonna do?_

My smile was sharp, the dry and dusty skin of my lips splitting as I looked up at the distracted Sticks's neck.

_Give the bastards hell, of course._

Curling my swollen fingers into a white-knuckled fist I drew back, eyeing my target before striking upwards with the brute force of my vengeful wrath. The fist connected hard with the base of my assaulter's throat, causing him to choke as my sharp knuckles cut off his access to air. Sticks clutched at his neck gasping, yet I hadn't felt his trachea crush beneath the force so despite the theatrics he'd survive the blow. Rem shouted in alarm as I shoved the wheezing man off me, lunging forward to rip at his hair and face with my aching hands. I was pulled roughly off by the taller man, before the pressure of his hands around my upper arms disappeared as 2D barrelled into Rem from the side. The two of them fell in a pile of lanky limbs, but I saw no more of their tussle as Sticks made to grab at me once more, his knife in his hand and his eyes murderous.

I was a girl no more, animalistic as I took a hold of his knife-bearing arm and, bringing it up to my mouth in one swift motion, bit into the flabby flesh of his wrist.

He screamed. Thrashing, hitting out with his free hand, yet as my teeth sunk deeper through the skin I barely felt the blows.

Finally he shook me off, the two of us standing to face each other head on, and when I grinned at his terrified face I felt his blood seep from between my teeth.  
To my left, 2D and Rem had reached the same kind of impasse, and together the blue haired boy and I stood before the two men as a victorious team. In distracted hysteria I realised 2D had been threatening to gut them with his unopened flick-comb, the handle clutched in his fist identical to that of a switchblade.

Backing off, Rem sneered, "You and your brother are lucky you're DeWitt's favourite pets or we'd fucking kill you."

I spat blood at their feet.

"Next time we come to collect, have enough to repay what you owe, or we won't be so nice," Rem advised, before turning and stalking off down the drive. Sticks remained for a moment longer, eyes glinting and crooked nose bloody.

"Good luck wiv that liddle frigid bitch," he sneered towards 2D, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he added, "I've got 'er nice and warmed up fer yew.

Then he gave me one last look of violent hatred before following his equally bruised friend into the darkness. As they left I felt the fire of the fight ebb from my body, leaving me trembling as I tried to stand on limp exhausted limbs.  
Swaying where I stood, I clutched at my still unzipped jeans as silent sobs began to wrack my battered form. My skin felt like dirt itself, fingernails starting to scratch as if to tear it off just as 2D pulled me into his arms.

Caught off guard, I flinched at the touch, before melting against him as the sobs began in earnest. They violently pulled free from lips and eyes, constricted my ribcage and squeezed at my throat. I was aware the boy was murmuring something into my hair as he stroked my back with gentle hands but I couldn't hear it past the panic of what could have been that was coursing through my system.

_They weren't going to stop no one was going to help and I was alone screaming_ _"_ _no_ _"_ _screaming_ _"_ _no_ _"_ _why does the idea of my body now make me feel ill and it's no one's fault but mine for being too small too weak too nothing to fight back and Lou and Lou and Lou didn't even care -_

Then suddenly, the sound.

"You're here, you're right here wiv me."

And it made no sense, as if he'd somehow mixed up what words you were supposed to say and yet these ones felt better because they were his.

"Where's 'here', Stu?" I asked him in a miserable rasp, pulling my face back from his chest so that I could meet his dark gaze. He looked at me silently for a second, tucking a stray piece of mussed hair behind my ear.

"It's a good place, it's somewhere just with you an' me," he began before he blushed at himself, embarrassed.

"That sounds like the best kind of place." I murmured, my mouth moving against the cotton of his shirt as I rested my face against his sternum.

"Somewhere by the seaside, where you can always hear waves," he said, hand drawing circles on the space between my shoulder blades, right where if I'd been born lucky I'd have a set of wings.

"What about whales?" I laughed lightly, tears drying in silver tracks on my cheeks. I couldn't hear him snicker but I felt it in the vibration of his ribs as he rested his chin atop the crown of my head.

"You'll just have ta protect me from them."

It seemed like a fair trade; my life in exchange for service as a sworn whale warrior.

"I think I like your version of the world better," I said softly, so softly it barely made a sound, yet I knew he'd heard from the way his hand stilled in its movements across my spine.

"Where's Lou?"

The question was unexpected, jerking me from the calm state is been lulled into.

"He's in the caravan," I replied, voice cracking across the dry expanse of my tongue. He stiffened, holding me out at arms length to fix me with a baffled expression.

"He was just inside that whole time? An' he didn't come ta help you?" 2D demanded, each word punctuated with a mixture of horrified incredulousness.

It stung, the simple fact of how unthinkable Lou's lack of action had been, and I found I could only nod my head in response, unable to even meet the boy's worried gaze. His thick brows drew together, mouth opening in shock so that I got a flash of his incisor-less row of teeth.  
There was nothing to say that could fix the night, no words that could smooth over the ruptured skin with balms and stitches until none of it, not the attempted assault nor the absence of Lou, had happened.

"It's the heroin, he would never have let it happen if he hadn't been so out of it," I heard myself defending my brother meekly, sighing as I added, "He won't even remember it when he wakes up."

2D shook his head, angry but not at me as he exclaimed, "That's the exact problem though! He's meant ta look out for you an' he did the opposite."

"What am I supposed to do?"

His cheeks were flushed rosy as he faltered for a moment, seemingly on the brink of saying something too important to fuck up. The boy's jaw worked as he visibly attempted to formulate the perfect sentence, and I prepared myself for him to blurt out something terribly worded in his scatterbrained state.  
Shoulders slumping a little, he looked entirely vulnerable as he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Just forget it, forget it all. No more deals or drug lords, no more lookin' after Lou when he can't even be bovvered ta do the same fa you," he said in a fast rush, eyes searching mine imploringly.

"If I stop doing deals they'll have even more reason to come back and hurt Lou and I," I murmured, shaking my head sadly, "They know where I live."

"Come live with me."

We looked at each other for a moment, the wind through the leaves overhead the only sound as I smiled wide at his offer. The two of us sharing coffee at his tiny table, most of the space taken up by one of his multiple synthesisers, or stretched out on the unmade double bed watching terrible low-budget zombie films that matched the posters on his wall; I could see it in my mind's eye with such clarity that I felt myself allow, just for a second, the version of the world he saw for me seem real. A place where I was not wanted by the police and not bound by blood to serve DeWitt, but instead could be happy and safe.

2D returned my grin, offering me his elbow like the dopey version of a dapper gentleman of old. Slipping my hand onto the crook of the lanky limb, I dipped into an equally silly curtsy, holding the hem of my oversized uniform shirt like one usually would a skirt. He snickered as we set off towards his trailer, my feet light despite the battered body they belonged to.

Once inside he embarrassedly kicked random articles of dirty laundry out of my way as he led me to his bathroom, turning on the shower to heat it up whilst he rooted around in a drawer to find some clean clothes.

"You're very small, too small fa my trousers, so it'll have ta be a t shirt an' briefs an' we gonna have ta safety pin the pants ta you I fink because otherwise they'll probably fall awf 'cause I'm... man sized? I dunno that sounds weird now I've said it," He rambled, flapping the clothing at my face as if begging me to just take them and put him out of his misery.

I did so with a shy "thank you" and shut the door to the bathroom, sinking back against it with eyes shut against the sudden trepidation I had at the thought of having to look at my body. Placing the clothes beside the sink I glared at myself in the mirror, an onslaught of vivid recollections from the night flashing through my mind.

_It wasn't your fault. You're safe now. It may have been a close call but he didn't manage to get what he wanted. You're fine, Sloane McLeod, everything's going to be fine from here on out._

The inner voice sounded like Birdie, and I closed my eyes against the reflection of my stricken and blood smeared face to imagine the red-headed girl instead. Slender fingers braiding back my hair, words gentle and loving.

She would be broken to hear this had happened. Utterly devastated at not only the danger I had been put in but also by the betrayal that it had been on Lou's watch.

Blinking back the anxious tears, I ripped my dirty clothes off and leapt under the deliciously hot water. It ran over my aching body, the liquid that swirled down the drain tainted with blood and dirt, pieces of gravel. Bruised and swollen skin was kissed better, the runoff beginning to clear as I felt with stiff fingers along the length of each leg and arm, across both sides of my ribcage and the sharp points of my hips. It was all still there, warm and substantial beneath my hands, and I felt the oddest sensation of being completely whole as I turned off the water and stepped out, exhausted yet clean.

2D had left me a fresh fluffy towel hanging on the rack, soft against my skin as I dried myself carefully off, having to brush slowly over welts and scrapes. Pulling on his clothes I looked down at myself with an exasperated laugh as I read the slogan across the front of the overly large shirt. The hem of it came down to the middle of my thighs like a dress, his obnoxiously pink Y fronts thankfully covered.  
With a wry grin I pulled the door open, leaning an arm against the frame as I cleared my throat, a crooked finger pointing at the gimp-masked version of Hello Kitty that adorned the borrowed shirt, quirking an eyebrow as I read it's slogan aloud.

" _Hello Kinky_?"

"Yes 'ello," he replied, flashing me one of his most self-satisfied smirks before stretching out contentedly where he lay sprawled across the orange bedspread.

A blue haired boy with his long legs sticking out off the end of the mattress, black eyes fluttering closed as he lazily reached out an arm to beckon me over. The gaps in his teeth were only just visible as his lips curved into a soft sleepy smile, angular face serene in the half-light; a vision of beautiful imperfection that in that moment laid itself in vivid still-frame within my memory.

It was this version of him that I'd recall later on with my chest alight, but at the time I merely yawned as I took his offered hand in mine, letting him curl me into his side so that as we fell exhaustedly asleep I could hear his steady heartbeat lulling me into the deep dark.


	10. 1.9

It was terrible returning to the caravan to collect my belongings the morning after that violent night, face swollen with a puffy black eye and my fingers aching in their newly crooked formation. After safety-pinning a pair of his clean jeans to me and rolling up the cuffs a total of seven times, 2D had offered kindly to come with me, but for fear of what horribly true things he might say to Lou I had assured him it was something I had to do alone.

"Awright, well take this at least then," he'd said, handing me a small white plastic box about the size of a glasses case. A red first-aid symbol was emblazoned on its side.

"What is it?" I'd asked, lifting the lid to reveal a syringe, needle, and medicine bottle stored neatly inside.

"It's a naloxone kit, it reverses the effects of an opiate overdose. I found it in the Tusspot Fairgrounds first-aid kit when I was looking fa painkillers," 2D had explained, fiddling with his hands in discomfort as he added, "I fought Lou should have it in his caravan, just in case."

I'd thanked him, touched by his thoughtfulness, but the plastic box in my pocket now seemed condemning as I stood before of my previous home.

Avoiding the patch of scuffed up gravel out the front, I slunk up the stairs to the door with the sound of Birdie and Lou arguing growing louder with every footfall. It was unlocked as I turned the handle and slipped inside, my presence noticed by the two of them yet still not enough to quieten a furious Birdie, her normally gentle and placid self warped beyond recognition as she continued to rant at my brother.

" -and I swear to god Lou if you lie to my face one more time about going to get help I will walk out that door and never,  _never_  come back," she finished finally, her pale hands angrily brushing away tears of frustration and anguish.

"So much for loving me then," Lou snapped back, glaring at first her and then me as if he hated us both. The expression alongside the words made him uncannily resemble our mother, and I shuddered at the thought.

"I love you more than anything! That's why I'm trying to help you, that's why the both of us -" Birdie cut herself off abruptly as she went to gesture to me, her large brown eyes widening in horror as she caught sight of my bruised face. In a gasp she rushed to my side, hands grasping me close as she asked in a hushed voice, "Slo-baby, who did this to you?"

Over her shoulder I could see Lou's face going white with shock as he too properly looked at my beaten condition, and my stomach twisted as I realised my prediction was right: he didn't even remember.

"DeWitt's contacts, Rem and Sticks," I replied, heart heavy with the knowledge that however angry Birdie already was with my brother, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

I pulled away from Birdie's well-meaning yet overbearing hug and began collecting my few worldly possessions from around the caravan as I recounted the events of last night to the red-headed girl, wishing to spare her the gruesome details yet finding myself unable to commit the omission of truth. She was as much a part of my family as Lou, lying to her would feel like a betrayal too unforgivable to commit.

"... and now I'm going to go live with my friend," I ended the tale simply, shoving the measly amount of clothes into my holdall and zipping it up, "And I'm not going to do deals anymore or ever meet with DeWitt's disgusting men again, because the next time I lay eyes on those two I'm going to kill them."

Both Birdie and Lou sat in horrified silence, unsure of which words, if any, would be able to make things okay. Placing the naloxone box down, I shouldered the bag and picked up my Daffy Duck plush, considering it for a second before I turned to Lou and stooped to hug him hard from where he sat miserable on his bed. Tears pricked at my eyes as his arms tentatively rose to embrace me back, the both of us knowing my out of character display of physical affection could only mean one thing: I truly was leaving.

"I love you Lou. I'm sorry I didn't do a better job of looking out for you," I told him, feeling his scrawny body begin to shake with suppressed sobs as he held me tighter.

"You never have to be sorry, Slo," Lou whispered, voice breaking as we pulled apart and locked eyes. Grey on exhausted grey, both shiny with unshed tears of regret and disappointment and the brokenness of loving someone who was too far gone to change.

In one last offer of regretful farewell I held out the Daffy Duck toy to him, and with the ghost-like smile of his old self he took it, hugging it to his chest.

"The door's always open for you," He said, eyes lighting up with the familiar mischievous twinkle that I had missed so much as he added with a smirk, "And you can be sure that when you return this radgey daft duck is gonna be waitin' somewhere stupid for ya."

I left them both with a weak laugh dying to silence in my throat, tears finally falling down my face the second it was turned away. Behind me I heard Birdie call my name but I couldn't stop moving for fear that if I looked back, even for a second, my heart would break entirely. I had to leave, had to get out while I still had the strength to do so.   
My feet felt like lead as I left my only family behind, the bag bouncing against my shoulder blade with every step. The last time I'd used the holdall had been to flee Whitehawk on the bus from Brighton, and it felt unnaturally light on my shoulder without Lou's things inside.

The morning sun was dim through the mist as I arrived at what was to be my new home, the blue haired boy sitting on the front steps smoking while he waited for me. Offering him a meek wave and an expression more grimace than smile, I ascended the stairs past him and entered the messy trailer. I could hear him follow me inside but I didn't turn around as I dumped the contents of my bag on the bed.

"Uhh, is the rest of it comin' in the mail or somefink?" 2D asked jokingly as he looked over my shoulder, and I elbowed him in the ribs before realising he had a point.

With my one of my two uniform shirts and my only pair of jeans sitting in a dirty crumpled heap in the boy's bathroom, my remaining items of clothing was pitiful; a few pairs of uninspiring briefs that I snatched out of 2D's view with a blush, some mismatched socks, the other crumpled Tusspot Fairgrounds shirt and an old ugly purple ringer tee I usually slept in. My toothbrush was a sad lonely object among the scattered things; everything else I had brought from Whitehawk was left with Lou, including our rescued Elvis vinyl and his own adidas windbreaker I had been wearing since our escape.

"I haven't exactly had the time or the money to go clothes shopping, Mr I'm-Bringing-Back-Teddy-Boy-Fashion-And-Own-More-T-Shirts-Than-All-Of-Eastbourne-Put-Together," I retorted with a pretend pout of sulkiness. 2D blinked, processing the new elongated title I had given him with a frown.

"That's not my name at all..."

"I know, Stu," I tried to intercept his train of thought, but he was distracted again and onto the next topic as soon as his confused pause was over.

"Op shopping! Tomorrow. I'll ask my dad ta give us the day off or somefink," 2D tripped over his words to excitedly get his new idea out, as if fully aware it most likely would disappear the second he thought of something else.

Wrinkling my nose I laughed as I repeated, "Op shopping? You wanna take me out for a makeover too?"

"Makeover? Definitely not," he smirked, picking up my faded purple ringer tee from the bed by it's pink collar and waving it at me as he continued, "You've clearly got the best style sense on the whole of the South coast."

The boy snickered as I snatched the shirt out of his hand with a "harrumph" noise, before nodding slowly, his idea actually very logical. I had been washing my clothes in a bucket of soapy water when they finally got too filthy, having to wear them damp the following day. It'd be good to have other options so they could at least dry out in between washing and wearing, as well as not having to smell like dirty laundry a lot of the time.

"Okay then, you're on," I agreed, and he smiled wide.

Despite the newly formed plans to look forward to, work that day was tedious and draining, my morning conversation with Lou continually replaying in my mind. He appeared briefly at his post on The Switchback, but only lasted two hours before he disappeared off towards the caravans as usual. The boy's flabby coworker made what looked like a loud and angry phone call as he watched my brother leave, and within minutes Birdie arrived, head hanging in defeat and fists clenched as she climbed up to the control panel.  
I watched the girl as she sat and began working the ride, her shoulders hunched and movements sloppy with exhaustion in a way I'd never seen before. It was as if Lou had leeched all the carefree joy from her, had stripped her of her grace and warmth. Despite the agitation it brought me I couldn't help but wonder how much longer she could manage to hold both Lou and her own lives together, and whether she'd have to lose herself in the process.

\---------------------

The town was busy with tourists that had come to enjoy the Eastbourne sunshine and seaside as 2D and I dismounted the rumbling bus, the boy still in the middle of a heated telephone call with his father over whether or not asking for a day off after we'd already left the fairgrounds counted as late notice.

I gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder as he winced at Mr Pot's loud reprimands blasting out of his mobile, before wandering down the street a little to give the poor boy privacy. The main shopping strip we were on was the one I had run down to avoid the police over two weeks ago, a vastly different place in the brightness of day. The green grocer's was open, brightly coloured fruits in box displays out the front like enticing jewels. I stopped in front of it, admiring the dark shiny red of cherries and picking up the velveteen peaches to smell them while I waited for 2D.  
I half expected the man behind the counter near the shop's open doorway to rush out and make sure I wasn't stealing, but when I accidentally caught his eye he merely waved and greeted me with a friendly, "Good morning!"

Taken aback, it took me a few seconds to smile tentatively back, cheeks growing hot at my own ineptitude.

_This isn't Whitehawk, I have to be more relaxed._

2D finally appeared at my side, looking dazed as he fiddled with his hands and bit at his lip. I gave him a quizzical look but he merely shook his head with a self conscious smile, pointing to a store just up the street from where stood.

"The charity shop is just ova there," He explained, striding out on his long legs towards it with an excited, "Follow me!"

Thrown off by his mood swing, I faltered before jogging to catch up with him so that we were side by side as we entered the little glass fronted building. 2D held the door open for me, a bell jingling with the movement, and I walked into the quiet and ever so slightly musty smelling space.  
The rack closest to the door was hung with an array of Spring frocks, a multitude of floral prints and bright colours all vying for my attention. I paused in front of them, a hand reaching out to flick through, yet pausing midway as a rush of agitation flooded my system at the thought of attempting to look feminine and pretty in a dress.

_Don't be ridiculous. You're too short and too boyish looking to ever pull that off. Leave the flowing dresses to beautiful people like Birdie and 2D's one night stand girls._

The inner voice was harsh and lavishly bathed in insecurity, yet I couldn't completely shrug it off as I withdrew my hand and moved on to a different clothing rack. Flicking through a series of well-worn t shirts I looked over at 2D on the other side of the shop, where he was head deep in the jeans section. As I watched he resurfaced triumphantly, flashing me a grin as he waved a pair of black jeans towards me. With a smirk I made my way over.

"A bit small for you, no?" I teased, earning myself a snicker from the unfazed boy.

"These look exactly your size an' you won't even have ta safety pin them on," He explained smugly, shoving the pair of jeans into my arms even as he gestured to the terrible adjustment job he had done on the trousers I'd borrowed off him.

"Are ya tryin' to make me into your very own life-sized doll or something??" I grumbled as he flung several more articles of clothing onto the growing pile and gave me a light push towards the changing rooms.

"No way; if you were one of  _my_  dolls you'd be relaxing in a Barbie Dreamhome an' would already have a whole wardrobe of outfits," 2D replied cheerily, smirking as I entered one of the stalls and closed the door in his face.

Scowling into the mirror I pulled the pair of black jeans over my bruised and scraped legs, perplexed when the waistband extended up and over my hips to fasten comfortably around my waist. They were exceedingly snug, almost like a second skin, and I gaped in the mirror at how different my body looked in tight clothes. Instead of the figure-hiding straight cut jeans I always wore, the second-hand skinny jeans hugged the thin lengths of my legs, curving out with my hipbones before dipping back in for an hourglass waist I hadn't fully realised I had. I seemed less short, but even smaller as I gazed at the malnourished figure reflected back at me.  
With the stress of Lou and the tightness of money due to the minimum wage we were receiving from Mr Pot, I definitely hadn't been eating enough, that much was plain to see.

Uncomfortable, I peeled the jeans from myself and tried on another pair, frustrated to find they were also in the same skinny-fit style. Putting back on 2D's baggy oversized trousers I walked out of the change room to see the boy busying himself looking through a clothing rack, his face in a tight frown of thought.

Body dysmorphia forgotten, I touched his elbow as I arrived at his side with a murmured, "What's wrong, Stu?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin, looking to me with wide black eyes before returning with an embarrassed cough to the clothes. I waited patiently, knowing he was on the verge of saying something from the way his jaw worked as it clenched and unclenched.

"The weirdest fing happened this morning," he said finally in a forcedly-casual tone, attention focused on the rack of dusty coat jackets he flipped through, "When my dad called me up about our day off he ended up askin' what I'd know about you an' Lou being involved wiv the police."

"What the fuck...?" I whispered in return, anxiety spiking through me.

"Yeah, apparently they tried ta come into the fairgrounds yesterday ta look for you both but my dad told them they had ta come back with a search warrant," he continued, before finally turning to me with a squint, "Do you fink it's about what happened in Brighton?"

I clutched at my sides, panic rendering me mute.

"I didn't know how ta tell you," the boy sighed into our silence, but I barely heard it over the roaring in my ears.

_They suspect we're at the fairgrounds? But how...? Rem and Sticks wouldn't risk anything with the cops, not even for revenge. DeWitt covered our trail out of Brighton, and we're getting paid in cash at the funfair. Where did we fuck up? How did they manage to find us?_

"Sloane...?"

"What did you tell your dad?" I asked him, snapping out of my chaotic thoughts with full focus. He blanched at my intensity, holding up his hands as if to fend me off.

"Nuffing! I just said I knew it wouldn't be anyfing ta do wiv you," He assured me, flinching from me in a way that made my stomach twist.

"What about Lou? Did you say it wouldn't be anything to do with him either?" I pressed, voice softening for fear he would keep cowering away from me.

"Fuck that guy."

"Stuart!" I snapped, horrified.

"... But yes, yes I did. Awright?" He admitted, returning to his hunt through the charity shop clothes rack.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with a murmured "Thank you."

He grinned back easily, ruffling my hair with a lazy hand, and the two of us continued our separate searches through the second-hand apparel.  
Driven by necessity rather than aesthetic value, I pulled out multiple extra large size mens shirts from the racks, as well as baggy nike track-pants and cosy sweatshirts. The blue-haired boy shook his head vigorously at most of these choices, rubbing his face exasperatedly with a large hand as I demanded to know what was wrong with them.

"You always dress like a chavvy David Byrne! Wear clothes your size!" He exclaimed, looking almost ready to tear his hair out.

"Don't compare me to a weedy sweaty man!" I retorted, trying not to laugh as his entirely black eyes went wide.

"He's a mUSIC ICON!" The boy borderline screeched, earning us both a stern look from the little old lady at the till. Calming down, 2D added with a bashful laugh, "Sorry, that was a bit loud... but anyway please do yourself a favour an' try ta pick at least one fing that was made fa someone as petite as you, awright?"

His words were said with only good intentions, the boy unable to see just how scared I truly was. But scared of what?

_That he'll realise I have the flat-chested skeleton body of a child._

I panicked at the thought, agitated at how it rang true. It shouldn't have mattered what 2D thought when he saw my body. It shouldn't have mattered whether I seemed childlike to him. He was my friend, just simply a friend who I lived with and fell asleep cuddled up beside. A friend who made my breath catch when his face was near mine, whose touch didn't burn and sting but instead felt warm against my skin. A friend who's presence in my life made me feel like a light had been switched on inside me, the glowing happiness that first started as a lone candle-bearer but had now spread into golden fire through every vein.  
It was irrational to be worried about whether a friend would find me attractive or not.

Sternly telling myself not to be ridiculous I nodded at 2D in defeated agreement and re-searched the racks, this time forcing my hands to pull out the clothes I had liked the first time but had been too afraid to try on. Giving 2D a run for his money with a taste for terrible shirts I picked out a rust-coloured baby tee with a line drawing of one of the Southern states of the USA, over which a slogan inexplicably read  _'Everything's bigger in Texas!'_ , as well as a white one advertising  _Bargain Booze_  chain stores with the red logo emblazoned on the front. I re-grabbed the black high waisted skinny jeans from where I'd jettisoned them onto the rack, then added a powder blue satin slip dress to my pile with a laugh as I envisioned how much I'd look like a demented Scottish Baby Spice in it.  
Realising I only had the one pair of grubby trainers that were currently attempting to fall apart on my feet, I went over to the shoe rack and mused over the selection for a minute before being distracted by the hat stand that stood dejectedly in the corner to my right.

I darted over to tug down the flat golfers cap that hung from one of the many hooks, laughing as I flipped it over in my hands to admire it's rather hideous brown and red plaid pattern, as well as the pompom that bobbled at it's top. Trying it on, I was disappointed to discover my head was too small for it to sit properly, dipping down to cover my black eye as I checked in the mirror.  
Determined that someone should have the wonderfully ugly thing, I turned to call out to 2D, beckoning him over.

"Stu, take a look at this."

His lanky legs carried him to my side, and he squinted at the hat for a moment before a goofy grin spread across his face. On my tippy toes I reached up and plonked it on his blue crown, stepping back to admire how much it suited him. The boy stooped to see himself in the mirror and snickered gleefully at his own reflection.

"A statement hat," he announced, nodding so that the little pompom jiggled wildly.

"The perfect hat," I agreed, laughing as he slowly swivelled on the spot to try and check himself from all angles.

Collecting up my chosen items of second-hand clothing, as well as a pair of thick soled black boots on the way over to the counter, I paid the lady ten pounds for the entirety of it and waited patiently whilst 2D purchased the hat. The boy refused to take it off to even pay for it, instead smiling sweetly as he handed over his money to the shrunken old woman, who for her part looked absolutely terrified of the towering black eyed man who stood at her counter.  
My heart hurt for him, and I hoped with all my might that he didn't notice the way her wrinkled hands shook as she tentatively accepted the crumpled pound note.

2D gave me a knowing look as we left, shaking his head as I opened my mouth to say something.

"Don't Sloane."

"Why? Why put up with that from anyone?" I blurted out, looking up imploringly at him as we continued on our walk up the street.

"I don't get it from everyone..." He protested weakly, but I was having none of it.

"Yes you do! From your dad, from your bandmate, even from that old boot back in there," I exclaimed, gesticulating wildly while he merely looked tired. Ranting a little I continued, "She was so ridiculous acting all afraid like that and shaking like a geriatric leaf, as if you're even scary to look at."

"I  _am_  scary ta look at," 2D interjected, stopping me in the middle of the path by placing a hand on each of my shoulders. I looked into his pale face, the darkness of his eyes reflecting myself back at me like the mirrored surface of an inky pool. Grey smudges of exhaustion lined the sockets of his large eyes, his lips pinky towards the centre from being bitten and his teeth full of gaps and gold crowns.

He was without a doubt the most gorgeous thing I had ever laid eyes on. My fingers tightened around the bag of clothes in my grip, almost perforating the plastic as I bit back the words; too shy, far too shy to say them.

"I'm also slow like my dad says, and a face-ache like Murdoc always said," He continued when I failed to speak, giving me a version of that crooked smile I knew was a false facade.

"You're not slow, Stu. You're just really easily distracted," I finally managed to respond, reaching up to fondly cup his sharp angular jaw in my palm, before adding snarkily, "And I don't know Murdoc but he can definitely fuck off, the radge cunt."

2D laughed, muttering something like, "what even is a 'radge'?" before we continued walking along the street. Together we went to the convenience store for food supplies, the newsagents to read dirty magazines out loud to each other while giggling until the owner kicked us out for "loitering", and finally the tobacconist for a cigarette restock.   
We were emerging from the last of these, already fumbling for a matchbook to light up when the sound of 2D's ringtone blared out of his back pocket. He frowned, freshly rolled cigarette hanging limp from his lips as he pulled it out and read the caller ID on the display.

His responding grin was pure joy, wide over his face as he rushed to accept the incoming call and put the phone to his ear.

"Noodle!"

I couldn't help but pause mid-motion at the animated way in which he said the name, glancing sideways at the usually subdued boy. He wasn't paying any attention to me, chattering excitedly into the receiver and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Japan? That sounds great! I've always wanted ta go there on 'oliday but -" he cut off abruptly and listened to something that was being said before responding, a little more downcast, "Oh... well I'm sorry you turned out ta be a government experiment super soldier an' all your friends were murdered 'cept you... That doesn't sound very great after all."

Feeling utterly confused, I realised I was technically eavesdropping and moved away to give him and his bandmate privacy. It felt strange that there was this whole other world he was a part of that I had no idea about, although not quite as strange as hearing casual mentions of experimental super soldiers. The 2D I knew now was only a part of the entirety of him, only a fragment of the whole. We'd had many late-night conversations on the carousel roof that had delved into the subject of his life previous to Tusspot Fairgrounds, and yet I still felt oddly like an outsider, like an intruder into his world that clearly had no place there.

_You're just being jealous. His old band is like his family, of course they're going to know him best._

Sighing at the overly rational tangent of my thoughts, I nearly jumped out of my skin when 2D appeared at my side, biting his lip as he slid the phone back into his pocket. I raised an eyebrow at him but he wasn't look at me, instead gazing off into space as he began to stumble dazedly towards the bus stop to return home. Alarmed, I had to almost chase him to catch up, shooting him looks of concern until we were sitting alone in the bus shelter.

"Stu...? Did something go wrong?" I asked hesitantly, leaning forward so I could see his face. At my voice he blinked as if snapping back into reality, and turned to meet my gaze.

"Noodle called me ta ask me back," He murmured, his words still soft and dazed.

"Ask you back...?" I queried, a foreboding feeling beginning to snake icily through my chest.

"Ask me back ta Kong Studios. She's getting Gorillaz back together fa a new album."

"Oh...!" I began to say something congratulatory but choked on my own selfish anxiety at the thought of him leaving. Clearing my throat I tried again, smiling up at my friend's dark eyes, "That's so fantastic, you can get back to doing what you love and escape from that shite ring toss booth."

I meant the words, despite how the news had left me feeling like I'd been punched in the gut, even managing a light laugh as I mentioned the terribly boring sideshow work we both shared. 2D however did not smile back, nor laugh, instead continuing to stare at me with his wide black gaze. His face was unreadable, inches from mine, and then his mouth finally moved to speak.

"I said no."

Shock rippled through me, my own voice coming out like a whisper as I asked, "Why?"

"Well... because I want ta stay at the fairgrounds fa a bit longer, I guess," He explained, the beginnings of a smile making his lips twitch. I gaped incredulously for a few moments more before I felt a grin of my own starting to spread over my face.

The bus pulled to a brake-squealing stop at the shelter and we climbed aboard, making our way over to one of the few empty double seats and settling down side by side. There was a grunting wheeze from the engine before it shuddered and pulled back onto the road.

"A day for weird phone calls, huh?" I offered meekly, and he smiled and nodded as my heart pounded hard the whole rest of the bus ride home, my head coming down to rest on his shoulder because to me it felt sure, it felt certain, that there'd only be one reason Stuart Pot would want to stay working at the fairgrounds, and that reason had to be me.

\------------------

I was still floating later that night, sitting on the trailer steps and exhaling smoke slowly up towards the heavy moon. It was ripe and glowing white, only a sliver away from being full. Behind me in the kitchen 2D was stacking dishes in the sink and humming contentedly. He'd been upbeat all afternoon, ever since his phone call with Noodle.

_Ever since deciding to stay here with me._

I grinned at the sound of the dirty cutlery clattering into the sink with a splash as 2D tapped out a rhythm with a spoon to accompany his wordless tune. I took another drag of the cigarette before turning around to see him leaving the plates and cups soaking in the sudsy water, too lazy to bother scrubbing them.

"You'd be fired as a kitchen hand," I called out teasingly, to which he snickered, answering as he walked out of sight of the open doorway.

"I'd be fired anyway fa burning toast an' chatting up the waitresses."

I scoffed in response, shaking my head as I looked back to the trailer park laid out before me, silver with moonlight and spotted gold from the luminance of the driveway lamps. The night was quiet and still, waiting with hushed breath for something I did not yet suspect.

Then the sound of her light footsteps, always bare, always graceful, and the girl stepped out of the shadows like she'd been formed of the starlight itself. I sat up from my slouched position, recognising her instantly, my mouth forming a warm greeting that died sour and unspoken on my tongue as I registered her expression.

"Birdie, what's wrong?"

They were stupid words I would realise later, looking back on it all. Stupid unthinking words. A question too broad to answer when everything in the world was wrong.

Birdie stood still, lips parted but nothing said as we looked across the space stretching between us. She still wore her uniform shirt, the hem wet from it's use as a handkerchief to wipe away tears, although if they were hers or Lou's I will never know. Everything was the hushed calm before a storm, or perhaps already the clearing of the clouds afterwards, with everything wet from rain and ripped apart by the wind.

"I can't do it anymore, Slo," she whispered, voice raw and rasping from all the words already said that night.

In my warm cocoon of happiness I for a moment didn't understand what she was saying, skin prickling with unease.

"Lou and I... I can't stay if he's going to keep using. I can't watch him destroy himself and lie, not for him or anyone," Birdie explained, choking past tears as she finished, "Not even for you, Slo-baby. I'm sorry."

Her face was twisted with guilt and grief, her hands reaching out as if to hold me before falling back empty and limp. I couldn't breathe, frozen in shock that rang so deeply through my being I was sure the vibration passed through the entire Earth and onto the other side. It would cause an earthquake, a tsunami, fire and flood, and all this from the sonar sent out from the exact sound of Sloane McLeod's heart shattering.

_Please Birdie, please don't give up on us._

I tried to speak past the sudden swelling of my throat, but my voice was a mere croak as I uttered the most honest words I had, settling childlike between us.

"... but we're a family."

Her narrow shoulders shook as she fought back a sob, brown eyes spilling silvery tears as they met mine. Birdie nodded, lips pressed together in a hard line. It was an agreement of family but not an admission of any change in her mind. My hands clutched at the material over my heart as if I could somehow hold it in my chest.

"I don't like who I am anymore, just as much as I hate what Lou has become," the girl said, crossing the distance to the trailer steps and pulling me into a tight hug.

"But I love you. Lou loves you, and I love you," I wept into her red hair, feeling all the blood in my body go numb and cold as I realised she was withdrawing, moving away to stand back from me.

Her eyes were large and sad as she murmured, "Sometimes love just isn't enough, Slo."

It was goodbye, and yet too sad to say the word itself, so I took her pale hand in mine and brushed my lips against the knuckles in a kiss that said it for me, and when I drew back her smile was the saddest I'd ever seen as the tears rolled down to the corners of her lips. It must have tasted of salt as she said farewell in the only way she knew I'd understand that it wasn't my fault, not my fault at all that she had to leave.

"Take care of yourself. The world would be far too sad without you in it."

I nodded, trying to put on a Brave Face since Lou was no longer strong enough to, yet unable to quell the tears which fell hot and stinging from my eyes as the girl tucked my ragged hair behind my ear. Her fingertips brushed the shell of it for a moment before she was stepping away, forever out of reach.

As Birdie turned to leave, she met my eyes one final time, lips parting to offer her last effort of motherly advice.

"... and be careful with 2D, Slo. Any guy that has gone around fucking that many girls without a second thought to their feelings mustn't feel much of anything at all."

And with those words she left both Lou and I, head bowed and ginger hair flashing gold under the driveway lamps like the closest thing to an angel's halo the real world could ever manage to offer.


	11. 2.0

I watched Birdie leave the same way I had my mother: standing on the steps of my home with a heart broken in my cupped hands, only this time there was no Lou to stand in the way so that I wouldn't have to watch. There was no police car with it's blue and red lights flashing, no neighbours standing on their porches watching the spectacle of it all. Birdie had left with her head dipped where Mum's was held high, but it didn't matter. Not in the end.

Neither of them looked back.

I could hear the door creaking open tentatively behind me, 2D clearing his throat uncomfortably as he waited for me to turn around and yet I couldn't. If the boy even so much as looked at my face he'd be terrified, too terrified to answer the question that I asked as I stood watching the beginning of the end.

"Did you hear that?"

He played dumb, faltering as he responded, "Uhh hear what?"

"Did you hear what Birdie said?" I repeated, tone more forceful this time. There was a pause before he finally answered.

"Yeah, I did," he sighed, and I turned to finally look at him with all the grief-stricken pain on my face plain to see. He flinched, eyes half lidded and sad.

"I love that girl but she's wrong," I defended him fiercely, gaze heavy on his, "She's wrong."

"It doesn't matter, Sloane."

I went to snap that it did but he'd already disappeared from the doorway, and when I followed him into the darkness of the trailer I found him curled up on the bed and facing the wall, disinterested it seemed in any further discussion of the matter. There was no arm reaching out to pull me closer as I lay on my side of the double bed, no sound of his heartbeat against my ear to lull me to sleep. Instead there was only the two of us in the dark, waiting for the sun to rise.

\------------------

Returning to work the next day was hard, as if walking into the fairgrounds themselves was physically aversive now that both Lou and Birdie would no longer be there. I had gone to my brother's caravan that morning, yet had only stood as a complete coward at the bottom of the steps, unable to move any further towards the misery emanating from within.

Sitting numb and listless at the front of the  _Quick-Shot Clown Pop_  booth window, I could only stare blindly across at The Switchback ride, motionless without anyone to operate it. Sooner or later Mr Pot would be notified, and Lou would most definitely be fired, but that was only if the police didn't acquire a warrant and raid the place to find us first.

Unable to find the will to care about either at that current moment, I chain-smoked lying slumped over the bench with my head resting on top of my folded arm, daydreaming of a world where things had occurred differently. Lou had gone to university and studied something to do with drama and theatrics, so he could put all his humour and story-telling skills to use. DeWitt had offered us his deal but we'd said no and moved out of Whitehawk to somewhere nice like Eastbourne except not have to live in a caravan. Birdie's grandma hadn't gotten sick, and if she had Birdie's family would have been around to help the old woman instead of her. Then Birdie would have been able to stay with us, and write books instead of just reading them, and they'd get to grow old and grey together until the end of their days.

I wanted it so badly it hurt, and yet wishing for things in my experience never made them so. I closed my eyes, flicking my cigarette butt over the edge of the booth window and onto the grass below.

"Trying ta start a Spring bonfire or somefink?"

I opened one eye tiredly to see 2D looming over me, stomping out the still smouldering end with his forehead wrinkled in concern. I sat up, shaking my head tiredly before running a hand through the matted nest of dark hair on my head. The boy sighed, seemingly unsure of how to deal with such a subdued and disinterested version of me.

"I'm going out into town tonight," He blurted, holding his elbows and fidgeting. I blinked slowly, waiting for him to continue, but he merely bit his bottom lip and looked at me expectantly.

"... and?" I prompted, my tone lifeless.

2D picked up one of the water guns that lined the front of the sideshow booth, holding it up to a squinted black eye and aimed it at me.

"You should come wiv me! It'll be fun," He invited, voice sounding forcefully bright. He was trying to cheer me up, but I was too prideful for his pity.

"I'm okay, you go and have fun without me."

A jet of water hit me in the face.

"Stu!!" I shrieked, holding up my hands over my head to protect myself from the water gun blasts as surprised laughter began to bubble up my throat.

He relented, resting the bubblegum pink rifle on his shoulder as he asked with a smirk, "Will you come now?"

"Because you squirted high pressurised carnival water into my face? No!" I retorted in mock outrage, grinning as I whipped my hands up to shield myself as another jet of water was shot at me in response.

It was only when my hair was soaked and dripping, uniform shirt pasted sodden to my skin, that I finally yelled out my own defeat, laughing as I wiped water out of my eyes. 2D grinned wide, gapped teeth on full display as he set down the water gun and began to back away.

"So you'll come then?" He repeated his invitation, palms raised as if to ward me off, before turning with a snicker and fleeing as I launched my dripping body over the bench and chased after him with my hands outstretched.

The morning sun was breaking through the clouds as we ran across the lush grass, laughing loud and carefree even while I called out pretend-threats and harmless insults. His gangly figure running always just a few meters in front, azure blue tufts of hair flapping in the breeze. I followed behind, almost blinded by the glare of the sunlight until everything seemed to shrink to the boy ahead and just how much he meant to me.

When I finally caught up I latched onto him in a soaked-to-the-bone bear hug that left his clothes almost as wet as mine, and he laughed and yelped and told me to "sod off" but we both knew it felt good, it felt like if we stayed locked in that soggy embrace and never let go then maybe, just maybe, we'd live forever like that in the Springtime of the Eastbourne fairgrounds.

"Yeah, Stu," I finally said, looking up at him with a wry grin, "I'll come."

He smiled at me as we broke apart, and despite the damp patches on our clothes as we returned to work the moment was over and no one was going to live forever after all.

\------------------

The girl in the mirror was slender and petite rather than short and bony. Baby blue satin falling to mid-thigh, smooth and shimmering as it rippled with my movements. The straps were thin on the dips in my shoulders, coming down in a v-shape to show the top of my sternum. I rotated slowly, barefooted and feeling strangely vulnerable with so much of my flesh exposed.

As I began to pull socks and the charity shop black boots on, 2D appeared in the reflection behind me, posing dramatically in my purple ringer tee which he had previously declared hideous. I swatted him with the sock in my hand, and he laughed, smoothing the cotton down his torso as if trying to accentuate his chest.

"Lucky you wear everyfing extra large or it'd be too snug of a fit," he teased, tripping on his own laundry as he tried to dodge my sock.

"Lucky t shirts don't hold grudges, or this one would hate you for calling it ugly," I retorted, laughing as he hopped foot to foot on gracelessly gangly legs.

"It  _is_  ugly," 2D assured me with a smirk, "But on me it looks great."

He looked at me for a second, half-lidded black eyes flicking up and down quickly before he visibly swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his slender throat. The pretend-ego and chest puffing melted away, his face inscrutable.

"You look..." he began to comment, before lapsing into silence.

"Pale and sickly?"

"No you daft sod," 2D laughed at my interjection, fixing me with a one eyed squint as he reached out to ruffle my hair, "You look nice."

I tried not to blush at his compliment, but something about his dark gaze on my skin made the blood sing in my veins, rising pink to the surface of my cheeks and neck. The boy looked at me for just a heartbeat longer before he turned away, and I released a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.

Humming a tune that sounded a lot like  _Space Oddity_ ,  2D brought out a half drunk bottle of bourbon from under the kitchen sink, pouring a hefty amount into two glasses.  
                    I felt uneasy as I watched him add Coca Cola to the brown liquor, turning it to a fizzing black.

"Cheers," he said, holding one of the two glasses out to me whilst the other was brought up to his lips. I watched them press the rim of the cup, parting as the liquid flowed to meet his mouth in an alcoholic kiss.

I shivered, hand reaching out and taking the offered drink just so I didn't reach out to grab him instead.

_And do what? What in the world would_ **_you_ ** _ever have the guts to do?_

Disturbed by the direction of my thoughts, I raised the glass in a mock toast and downed it in one go. My throat lit as if on fire, stomach tightening as the liquid licked its way down the empty sides and pooled hot at the bottom.

"Fuck, you poured that strong, Stu," I spluttered, coughing weakly as my eyes watered from the caustic taste.

"You weren't supposed ta gun it!!" 2D exclaimed, eyes wide in horror. I laughed at his shock, passing the empty glass back to him for a refill, and the boy squinted at me whilst he asked, "Are you an alcoholic or somefink?"

"No! Jesus wept," I laughed, before admitting, "I don't really drink much, but if I am then I'm not half-arsed about it."

At my words 2D raised one thick eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Without taking his black eyes off mine, he downed the rest of the drink in his hand, swallowing slowly without even so much as a grimace.

"Well if that's the case," he said, pouring two new potent bourbon and cokes, "Let's not half-arse nuffink tonight."

"Cheers to that."

We downed our drinks, the liquor warm across my tongue and humming instead of burning as it trailed its way down my throat. The feeling had me grinning all lightheaded as I slipped my feet into my chunky-soled boots, holding a foot out wordlessly to 2D and giggling when he instinctively crouched down to tie the long laces in neat bows.

"Lightweight," he teased, but his fingers were clumsy as he finished his double knots, gaze glinting when he looked up the length of my legs to my face with the hint of a smile on his lips.

2D got changed out of my purple ringer tee in a flash of pale skin, opting instead for a black button down that had a sheriff's star badge pinned to the breast.  
                  I made a comment about about whether he was going out to catch some outlaws tonight as we left the trailer, and he responded by pretending to shoot me with finger guns and his own set of sound effects.

"Sloane McLeod: wanted dead or alive," he called out into the night and the world beyond the small bubble of warmth we found ourselves in.

We made our way silly and uncaringly loud through the Fairgrounds and out onto the road beyond; the criminal and the constable. I watched the way the lights blurred into lines around us, as if the two of us together were moving at the speed of light towards somewhere only the stars knew of. The bus ride into town sitting across the aisle from one another and listening to 2D explain the difference between a keyboard and a synthesiser with his face lit up, then we were getting off and he was pointing to a bar across the road with the goofy excitement already fading. I watched in confusion as the boy's eyes became half lidded, nonchalant, and then he was walking up to a group of people I'd never met before and being greeted.

Hanging back, I felt a tick of anxiety running underneath the alcohol in my veins. 2D was introducing them to me, naming each of the young men and women in turn before announcing to them all.

"Guys, this is my friend from my dad's carnival. Sloane."

I couldn't help but feel stung at the way he said it, as if I was divided from them in some way that labelled me as lesser; less of a close friend, less of a person. They all were perfectly welcoming but clearly found my presence odd, looking surreptitiously at one another as we all entered the bar. The doorman should have ID'd me, should have barred me from entering due to my age, but seemed not to notice how much younger I was than the rest of the group as he waved us in tiredly.

As everyone sat down at one of the tables in the corner, 2D instead headed over to the bar with another boy, calling over his shoulder to me, "Another bourbon?"

I nodded, sliding onto a seat beside a girl who looked Birdie's age, with a sleek bob and long fringe that came neatly down to her eyebrows. The sudden and unwelcome image of my own hair with its home-cut stray locks that always seemed to be falling over my face came to mind, and I winced.

"So, Sloane, how long have you worked at the carnival?" A guy with sandy blonde hair asked from across the table, polite yet cautious, as if waiting for a point to be made.

Trying to swallow my uneasiness I responded with a tight smile, "Probably coming around to a month now."

He nodded slowly, then probed further, "Do you work with 'D on The Switchback or something? Is that how you met?"

"Aye... something like that," I evaded the question, almost sighing in relief as 2D returned with a round of drinks.

I mostly listened in silence as they all chattered, drinking sociably and laughing loud. When my glass was empty, at a much faster rate than any of theirs due to anxiety, I excused myself to go grab another one. Relief flooded through me as soon as I was away from the scrutinising gazes of 2D's friends.

The bartender gave me a slightly suspicious look as I asked for two more bourbon and cokes, but I gave him my best impression of one of Lou's charming smiles and received the two drinks anyway. I turned away to down one on the spot, placing the glass on an empty table on my way back to the group of strangers.

"Sloane! 'D was just telling us about how you two became friends," the girl with the sleek bangs informed me as I sat back down, loudly so that the whole table heard.

I swallowed, panic lancing through me as I looked at the blue haired boy. He was fidgeting with his hands in discomfort, but as our eyes met he gave a slight shake of his head.

_He hasn't told them about the deals or Lou, thank fuck._

"... yeah well anyway, she works next ta me at the sideshow an' I guess we just hung out a lot or somefink," he finished awkwardly, eyes heavy-lidded and a wall of pretend-ambivalence over his features.

"Do you live at the trailer park too?" The boy beside 2D asked me, tone formed of a barely concealed sneer. I felt my jaw clench, the liquor in my bloodstream emboldening me.

"Actually I live with 2D," I replied lightly, smirking as the boy who'd asked gaped.

There was a silence, everyone processing the information whilst I downed the rest of my drink. Across the table, I saw 2D do the same.

Conversation returned to its usual flow, avoiding the subject of 2D and I for the rest of the time we spent at the relaxed bar. Before we'd even been there an hour one of the women suddenly stood up, announcing that it was time to go to the laundrette.

Confused as to why in the world we'd go to wash clothes at this time of night I followed them as we left, walking up the street in a noisy drunken mob. My head was beginning to spin, limbs feeling as if they were moving in slow motion, but it felt good as 2D fell into step beside me.

"Do they ID here?" I asked him, slurring just ever so slightly. His head jerked to the side to look at me, blue hair flopping with the movement.

"Uhh I dunno," he replied slowly, brows pulling into a slight frown, "... does it matter?"

Surprised, my mouth opened and closed mutely for a moment before I finally stuttered a "n-no".

_He doesn't know I'm under eighteen._

The realisation made my hands shake, half in an odd relief and half in trepidation, both the emotions leaving me confused as we arrived at a door set into a hole in the wall between a newsagents and a tobacconist. A purple neon sign read ' _The Laundrette_ ' in glowing cursive.

The broad-shouldered and thickset woman at the door grinned when she laid eyes on our party, standing back so that we could enter through the indigo doorway.

"Back so soon?" She laughed, not even noticing me as she nodded at the blue haired boy at my side as we passed her.

There was a set of stairs going down into strobing darkness, electronic music and loud beats pulsing upwards as we descended. A single naked bulb lit our way, the red light cast from it turning 2D's hair violet as I reached out drunkenly for his hand to steady myself, only to have him snatch it away.

_Did you want to keep all our hand-holding a secret from your real friends, Stu?_

Surprise gave way to bitter hurt, and I walked faster so that I was ahead of him as I stepped down the last of the stairs and onto the concrete basement floor. Multicoloured lights pulsed, lighting up bodies mid-movement in jagged stills, the music loud and thumping hard enough for me to feel it vibrating in my chest. The group split down the middle, got lost in the crowd, and I merely marched straight up to the bar with the pain still aching dully in my rejected hands.

I got served without a second glance, the girl behind the bar too busy to even look at me properly as I ordered another bourbon and Coke. The black liquid fizzed at me in the flashing lights, friendlier than all of 2D's friends combined.

Eyes half-lidded as they traced along the gyrating bodies within the dark space, I leant back against the bar as an outsider to it all. Each sip of the alcohol left a warm trail all the way down my throat and into my stomach, whispering words of comfort.

_I know he cares about me. I know he does. I don't need to prove anything to these people._

I drained my glass, suddenly tired and craving a cigarette. Although I could see people on the dance floor breathing out lungfuls of smoke, I retreated to the women's bathrooms for a reprieve from the thudding music and strobe.

As I entered the dull and fluorescent space a set of girls reapplying their makeup in the mirror looked up at me with unwelcoming glares. I flashed them a drunken grin and pushed open the door of the last stall in the row, locking it behind me. Flicking the lid down with a loud careless bang, I sat on top of it and pulled out my packet of fags.

It was just as I went to strike a match to light one that the bathroom door squeaked as it swung open, a new group of girls entering whilst deep in discussion.

"... it's just too fucking weird. 'D never goes home alone, he could have any girl he wanted, and yet he goes and gets himself a trailer trash live-in," one complained in an derisive snort of laughter. The voice sounded a lot like that of the girl with the front fringe who I'd sat beside earlier.

Shocked, I stopped mid-motion, the matchstick held unlit between two frozen fingers.

"Yeah but what's even worse is she's clearly so young! Imagine being such a slag at that age," another girl replied, tittering alongside her friend.

"I know right? I mean, where's her mother?"

The last joking sneer felt like a slap, stinging my eyes and lighting my cheeks afire with a humiliated flush. The warm glow the bourbon had lent me earlier was snatched suddenly back, leaving me feeling dizzy and small as I sat and listened to them laugh at my expense.

_You have not lived through your own birth, death, and resurrection to now take shit from these cunts._

The flickering fluorescents of the bathrooms suddenly clicked into hyper-colour focus, the grout between each of the repeated black and white tiles on the floor pulling into stark definition as I stood up from the lowered toilet seat. Unlocking the cubicle door with clumsy drunken hands felt like a streamlined movement as I exited the stall with my head held high, jaw set hard as I struck the match and held it to the fag hanging out the side of my mouth.

The three women from 2D's friendship group blanched as I dropped the match into the trough sink with a wet fizzle that matched their mirth as the laughter died in their throats. I washed my hands slowly, eyes on the soap suds flowing down the length of the sink to the drain instead of the girls to my left. They shuffled at their spot in front of the mirror uncomfortably.

"Oh do continue, don't stop on my account," I said smoothly as I turned finally to face them, my voice almost a mocking purr. Water droplets glistened on my palms as the girl with the sleek bangs began to stutter a response.

"W-we uh -"

"... didn't expect me to be in here?" I finished for her, feeling my lips pull into a snarl as the blood rushed hot and angry to my head, "Go on, tell me more about how I'm a whore who's missing their mother."

Without waiting for a response, I plucked the ember-tipped cigarette from between my lips and exhaled long and slow towards their gaping faces. The smoke danced in the dim electric lighting between us, before I was flicking the entire burning fag towards the woman closest to me, not watching it arc smouldering through the air towards her ample cleavage but instead hearing her shriek as it landed whilst I stepped towards the other two. My still-dripping hands made twin loud wet smacks against their overly powdered cheeks as I slapped the both of them hard enough to leave my palms stinging, not staying to watch them double over and clutch at their faces as I continued past the three of them and out the door.

_Fuckin' minger cunts._

Everything was in and out of focus, tilting sideways and then straightening to upright as I stalked through the gyrating bodies in the dark, not caring as I bumped into multiple people and was grabbed at repeatedly by hungry hands without faces. I felt dizzy enough to be sick, angry enough to tear out strangers' hair and scream until my lungs gave out. As I walked towards the exit stairs I slipped in someone's spilt beer, laughing as I landed on my hands and knees in the filth and watched the shimmering baby blue hem of my slip dress soak itself to a dirty brown.

"Hey doll, you alright?" A gentle female voice asked me, and I lifted my head just enough to see a pair of ugly sneaker shoes stopped in front of me.

"What's it to ya?" I slurred, dropping my head back down as I tried to figure out how to push myself up.

"It's nothing to me, just seeing if you were alright. I'm just here looking for someone actually, a blue haired guy, tall with black eyes. He's a regular at this particular venue, maybe you've seen him here tonight?" The woman asked, grabbing me by the shoulder to help me as I slowly stood, my head spinning.

_... 2D? Why's the radge got every girl in Eastbourne after him...?_

"Maybe I have seen him," I said, alarm prickling through my drunken haze as I realised something here wasn't right. I rested with my hands on my knees, head still down and hair covering my face as I breathed slowly, knowing I needed to be sober to figure out what was happening but too drunk to even understand why the fuck this person wanted 2D.

"Could you tell me where you last saw him? He could be a key witness in a missing persons case."

_Missing...? Person...s. Missing persons..._

A memory was rising, unbidden to the surface of drunken thought. A woman in a yellow dress, holding her silver stilettos as she stood and watched me talk to 2D in silently piqued interest. Spotting that same woman at the fairgrounds, always slinking out of view the moment I caught sight of her. As if she had been... spying on me.

_What was it Stu had said? She'd been asking all these questions about things like where we'd met and how old I was... like she'd been trying to ID me..._

"Missing persons?" I heard myself repeat, voice shaking as I straightened up slowly, head still bowed so the person couldn't see my face.

"Yes, the siblings Louis and Sloane McLeod."

_Time to get the fuck out of here._

I finally glanced up, fixing the poorly disguised undercover policewoman with a drunken smirk even as her eyes widened in shock.

"Give that sexy detective of yours a raise," I singsonged, ducking up the stairs past her even as she made a grab for me, calling drunkenly back over my shoulder as I ran up the steps, "It's not every day that trying to get laid by a carnival worker has the Brighton cold case of the decade land in ya lap!"

The policewoman almost caught me as I barrelled through the doorway, getting entangled in the crowd lining up for entry just long enough for her to catch up. I sidestepped her, pushing a chavvy-looking girl in platform heels so that she overbalanced and fell on top of the cop as I continued to elbow my way through and onto the other side. I had barely begun to sprint down the road when the passenger side door of a nondescript grey sedan parked nearby swung open, a familiar figure stepping out with their baton raised.

Even with the black police uniform instead of her yellow dress, she was instantly recognisable as the first of 2D's girls I had ever met from the roof of the carousel, as well as the woman who I had seen stalking me through the carnival. Carrying on with my drunken momentum, I ran straight past despite her yell of warning, giving her a salute as I did so.

"Halt! Police!"

"Surrrre thing!" I shouted back in a slur, giggling with the head rush as I neither slowed nor stopped at her request. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should have been much more worried, panicked even, but the world was a mess of colour and flaring lights not real enough to take seriously.

_There's a bus ahead if you get on the bus you're good, no bus means bad bad bad and wouldn't it be funny if they got the search warrant they needed to come into the fairgrounds and arrest Lou and I and then we spent the rest of our lives in jail because as soon as we got out DeWitt would kill us..._

I stumbled up the bus steps, handing the bus driver too many coins and whispering to him, "Toss pot... fairgrounds. Keep the change, sweetheart."

The man merely nodded in boredom and pulled out of the kerb as I swayed and tripped down the empty bus, lying across the back seat while my pulse strobed in my temple. Everything seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness, the memories of the night blurring until I couldn't rightly remember what was happening.

_2D's girls... from the bathroom? Cunts. They're investigative police...? No that's someone else. No distractions, look after Lou, no distractions except 2D and then 2D led them straight to me._

At the fairgrounds I stumbled down the bus steps, tripping over nothing and everything as I tried to walk upright. I wanted someone, anyone in the world to exist in that swirling space with me, and yet as I pushed through the rotary employee gate there was nothing but a girl alone under the starlight.

"I want to go home," I called aloud into the empty echoing space of the carnival, but without Lou or Birdie or 2D I had no idea what home  _was_.

_I want Stu. I want him close and warm and smiling that way he does just for me, with all the gaps in his teeth on full display. I want that forever, with him and only him._

Taking deep breaths and small steps I finally made it to the trailer park, slipping on the loose gravel as I clumsily staggered up the driveway to the caravan 2D and I shared. Both hands held out in front of me for balance, I was in the middle of wondering if he'd even be back yet when I heard it; the sounds that would rupture the delicate balance between the both of us.

The kitchenette light was on, visible from behind the Dalai Lama poster that covered the broken window, through which the unmistakable grunts and moans of sexual activity floated out. I stopped in my tracks, frozen and listening without wanting to hear, staring at the smiling Tibetan monk and drunkenly cursing the fact 2D had never fixed the goddamn window pane. If the glass had been intact it'd have muffled the sound, and then I surely wouldn't have been standing in the dark while having to hear in minute detail the groans of a stranger as they were fucked in the bed 2D and I shared.

_I think I'm going to be sick._

My heart was beating too fast, head spinning as I all but crawled away from the trailer, collapsing instead at the top of the hill it was parked on. The grass was slightly damp with dew as I lay on my back, fingers massaging my temples as if that could rid me of the feeling that the world was spinning a thousand miles an hour while I was standing still.

I knew 2D did this; it shouldn't have hurt. Yet lying there I felt the strangest sense of betrayal over the simple fact that he had taken me out for the night and then left without a second thought when offered the chance at a one night stand with a stranger. Maybe I had forgotten his reputation. Maybe I had thought the way he felt about me might have changed things.

_... and be careful with 2D, Slo. Any guy that has gone around fucking that many girls without a second thought to their feelings mustn't feel much of anything at all._

Birdie's last words to me echoed in my head but I shoved them away from me hard and fast, frowning at myself and my intoxicated train of thought. Why did it matter so much to me? Why did I feel like I'd just been cheated on, and even worse why did I feel so jealous?

_Did you think it was gonna be you in there fucking Stu, Sloane McLeod?_

I laughed bitterly at the question, knuckling my eyes as if to block it all out; the black sky, the trailer halfway down the slope, even the mental image of 2D lying across from me as he did every night, only this time naked and beautiful and mine for just a moment.

"Leave me alone," I whined, eyes scrunched closed and teeth gritted while my head spun in the opposite direction to the rest of me.

Behind the closed lids I could see memories of us playing out like old film; 2D laughing all wheezy and high pitched, smirking at me like a contented cat while I pretended to be mad even as I bit back a grin. The blue-haired boy slouching on the blue milk crate at our makeshift smoking spot, offering me homemade sandwiches and then it became the bourbon and coke from tonight instead and how when he spoke I could smell the liquor on his breath like the best kind of drug. 2D holding me in his arms tighter than anyone else had ever dared and the way he made me like the sound of my full name despite it sounding wrong on everyone else's lips.

Everything had fallen apart, fallen away from me, and yet he had remained. That had to mean something; it had to be more than just nothing because people didn't just go around making homes in people and if they did then it didn't happen to people like me. Runaway, schemie girls, with heroin baggies tucked in the waistband of their underwear and cynicism where a heart should be; we didn't get the luxury of guardian angels.

"What's happening to me?" I asked, the words loud and slurring as I finally opened my eyes as if looking for the answer written out in late-night sky writing. Nothing responded, save for the slam of the trailer door and my own groan of frustration.

I found myself half hoping 2D hadn't heard my outburst and wouldn't find me lying there, while also half hoping he would. The two desires fought it out, each tugging at my blurring thoughts until I felt constricted by the confusion inside my own head.

There was the sound of soft footsteps approaching, then I felt the ground shudder as the boy himself flopped bodily beside me, drunk and self-satisfied. I turned my head to look at him, unable to keep from grinning back as he fixed me with a wide smile, eyes half-lidded as he reached out to slide his arm under my head. Curling me in close to his side, I closed my eyes in bliss, my previous feelings of hurt and betrayal forgotten as my drunken mind came to the only conclusion it could:

_He_ _'s chosen_ _me. Against all odds and in the face of everything we've both had to live through to get here, to this place, it's gonna be okay now because Stuart Pot_ _wants_ _me just as I am._

He was all there was in the world, just me and the blue haired boy lying drunk and breathless on the lawn. I could smell the sex on him, the sweat and the crushed grass beneath us; caught up in the magnetism of it all. The boy a black hole, star gone supernova and I was walking willingly into the vortex with my arms held out wide.

Propping myself up on an elbow I watched his face as he lay with closed eyes and lips parted to inhale. Just like the first night we ever lay beside each other, he had a large bite-shaped bruise on his neck, and I reached out with a tentative finger to trace around the purple mark.

2D shivered beneath the touch, and I stilled my movement, staring at his closed eyes with my heart in my mouth. They didn't open, and I continued the press of fingertip to swollen skin as I drew circles and patterns around the love bite.

There were words I needed to say but I couldn't remember. It started with something about the warmth of him, and ended with a grand statement I was scared to speak.

My hand traced up to his cheek, stroking along the angular edge of his jaw up to his lips, hovering there until his black eyes were open and looking into mine and the words didn't need to be said because all I had to do was lean down and kiss him and he'd be able to taste just how much I loved him on the tip of my tongue.

Sliding a leg over his hips I moved so that I was straddling him, hands pressed to the rapidly rising and falling span of his chest. His eyes were blown wide, the softest pink flush beginning to colour the tops of his cheeks as he searched my face for something I couldn't decipher as I leant down to press my mouth to the bony ridge of his collarbone.

There was a sharp intake of air from him as I sucked at the skin hard enough to leave a bruise, his hand flying up to cup the side of my skull yet neither pulling nor pushing me away. Lapping my tongue over the swollen hickey I felt his hips jerk towards mine in a small involuntary movement, his fingers clenching in my hair.

"Sloane s-stop the lickin'."

The boy's voice was shaky but firm, and I pulled back to look into the darkness of his eyes. His teeth bit at his bottom lip, worrying the soft flesh until it looked ready to split open under the force.

Reaching out with both hands I stroked the pads of my thumbs across the raw and bitten skin of his lower lip, watching him close his eyes at the gentle touch. My heart was beating hard and fast as I slid my fingers down either side of his stubbled chin to cup his jaw, the world blurring to the sound of bourbon singing in my blood as I dipped my head to light his mouth ablaze with mine.

I was met with a face-full of blue hair as he jerked his head away, catching my wrists in his large hands to pull them from him. Confused hurt cut through the drunken warmth that had been running in my veins, and I struggled against the sudden imprisonment of my hands.

"Sloane, stop," he was saying as I tried to yank myself free of his grip, cheeks burning as his rejection finally drove itself home within my dazed mind.

"Let go of me!" I snapped, clenching my jaw in an effort to keep any oncoming drunken tears at bay.

"No, Sloane just calm down awright?" He tried to placate me but I was beyond such niceties, skin crawling with shame and embarrassment at how terribly I had misunderstood the situation.

"Why?  _Why?_ " I could hear myself asking raggedly, demanding both why and why not in the same broken word.

We stared at each other, lying in a tangle on the grass behind the trailer with my heart slamming itself to pieces against the unyielding cage of my ribs.

"How old are you, Sloane?" He asked quietly, still holding my wrists in his vicelike grip. I hated the pointedness of the question, I hated the way he was looking at me as if he were suddenly exhausted.

"I'll be eighteen next month," I mumbled, in that moment sounding every bit the child I was.

2D must have felt the fight go out of me, because he released me from his hold. My skin felt cold in the absence of him.

"I'm 25," the blue haired boy said, his voice gentle, "I'm just a bit too old for you, love."

"Don't do that," I snapped, feeling the tell-tale prickle of angry tears spike at my eyes whilst the bourbon afire in my bloodstream let the words slip easily from my mouth, "Don't go and try to pretend like there's nothing between us."

"There IS nuffink between us."

I froze, sitting straddling the only person I'd ever wanted so terrifyingly much in my life and staring into his unfathomable black eyes. He meant the words, meant them even with all the hidden blades that lined every syllable. I swallowed back against the lump in my throat.

"You really don't feel anything at all," I whispered, and watched him flinch.

He might have gone to say something, the mouth I wanted so badly to kiss opening up to speak but I didn't give him the chance; I was standing up from where I'd rolled with him in the grass, feeling loose blades float from the rumples in my clothing as I marched away. I couldn't see where I was going for the hot furious tears that began to fall from my eyes but I refused to stop or slow down until I was out of sight from his black empty gaze.

Dropping to my hands and knees, I retched and choked against the potent mixture of bourbon and bile that crawled up my throat and onto the gravel driveway. It wasn't until I began to dry heave that I finally sat back on my heels and looked up at the overcast night sky, mouth gaping and sour.  
Kneeling there, the world came to sit around and watch as I stared into the heavens and cried for all the things I'd lost that night.

\------------------

I could not work the next day.

Turning up at midday to open the booth, I rolled up the shutter and nothing more. No prize toys were hung, no cleaning commenced. I stood and trembled just to know less than a meter away 2D was working in the ring toss booth, close enough to hear him breathe yet too far from me now to ever reach.

I had stayed outside for hours the night before, only returning to the trailer once I was sure 2D was too deeply asleep to even stir as I lay down as far from him as I could on the double bed. When I'd woken that morning the space beside me had been empty, the sound of the door slamming shut wrenching me from a restless sleep. Leaping from beneath the blankets and over to the window, I'd stared out at the blue haired boy as he walked down the crooked steps and onto the gravel beyond. He'd looked back, flat and empty black eyes resting briefly on my face at the glass, before he'd turned, squaring his shoulders as he moved from sight.

Watching him walk away had ached in places I never even knew I had; a hollow girl tapping against the engine of her body and listening for the ticks. It was like missing something which never belonged to me, hands clawing out to snatch back at the empty air he left behind.

_I never asked him to hold my hand. I didn't beg for his affections and yet he gave them willingly up until the point I tried to give it a name._

At a loss, I paced the small galley inside the booth, rage gurgling up like acid from my guts, from the very deepest and most rotting parts of me. It tinted the world red, misting crimson across the faces of the slowly rotating clowns, mouths open as if gasping at all they'd witnessed in their time at the carnival. An immature urge to tell them to fuck off and mind their own business ran through my mind, chased by a rising claustrophobic nausea that left me reaching out dizzily to steady myself.

_Come back. Please._

The thought was weak and plaintive, the echo of it repeating itself endlessly within my cranium, making me cringe with each iteration. When had I become so weak? When did my malnourished heart crawl from chest to sleeve and who coaxed it from it's shell?

Him. 2D. I could see him even now, goofy grin holding the water gun like a hunting rifle, lining me down the sight. His hands ruffling my hair, one eye closed in a squint as if sizing me up, as if looking into the sun.

_Yes, come back to me, even as a shadow, even as a dream._

The air all of a sudden seemed too thin, as if the sideshow booth had reached high altitudes. Stumbling from the back door, I found my usual red milk crate waiting for me. Out of habit, I plonked dazedly down on it, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. It ashed almost halfway on my first desperate drag, savouring the pain of my lungs expanding with fire. Shaking hands flicked the charred remains, which floated down as soft grey flakes onto my outstretched legs.  
                   The first cigarette was replaced by another, then a third, only after which I managed to drag my eyes from the slowly spreading layer of ash now coating my jeans to the blue milk crate sitting unoccupied before me. The sight twisted the knife in my spine, tears springing up hot and biting. I closed my eyes, trying to contain the liquid behind the lids and yet it humiliatingly spilled out, cooling as the droplets trailed down my cheeks.

                   The conversation replayed over and over in my head, a loop of pain and overthinking, with a round of over-analysis after each cycle. Panic rose up to greet me like an old friend, and I found myself curling into a seated foetal position with knees hugged tight to chest just to try and survive the onslaught. Just to try and hold my body together whilst it did it's very best to fall apart.

This was how he found me an hour later, looking up at him from my milk crate perch. Chin on knees, smouldering cigarette hanging limply from lips parted slightly in surprise. The anxiety episode had left me utterly spent, as though even the bones of my body had dissolved into fatigue and left me in jellied form.

Even after our fight, meeting his black gaze sent a warm glow down the length of my body. A single figure alone in that cavernous space, holding out a candle to the darkness. I wanted to tell that brave traveller to turn back, to leave me without that fragile flame because I didn't deserve it and the boy didn't want me to have it. But still onwards they marched, and I felt my mouth curve into an involuntary smile.  
                     2D frowned just a little at this, before his face settled back into stone. It looked unnatural on him, to be so impassive and carefully unreadable. A beat of silence passed, and then two. My smile faded, throat working to swallow against the thick lump that threatened oncoming tears. Finally he opened his mouth and spoke flatly.

"I accepted the offer from Noodle ta get the band back together. There's a taxi waitin' out front fa me."

My stomach dropped sickeningly even as I fought desperately to maintain a straight face.

_Stu please don't go, please don't leave me here alone. I cannot bear it without you please don't make me bear it please -_

\- but I didn't say it. I felt the heat of the cigarette as it burnt down to the filter but couldn't move to take it from my mouth, couldn't pin down a phrase, not even one word, with which to reply. He shifted uncomfortably, a ripple of softness crossing his cold facade. A calloused hand scratched through tufts of blue hair before falling back at his side.

"I just came ta say goodbye," he mumbled, his voice gentle, his dark eyes lowered shyly. He poked a clod of grass with the toe of one shoe, waiting.

I could feel the claw-like tips of my fingers digging hard into the sides of my thighs, entire body screaming for action. I needed to make a sound, any sound, that might translate into some sort of response. Even if it were a strangled cry, it'd be better than this. It'd be better than nothing.

_I'll miss you_ , I wanted to say,  _I love you and I'll miss you and thank you for making living in this hell worthwhile_. But I was choking on the word "love" and it felt like the scariest version of goodbye I'd ever needed to say. Scarier than the one for my mother, or Birdie, or even Lou. "Love" meant goodbye forever, meant no future friendship, not even the slim chance of it. That misplaced feeling and candlelit warmth would crack under his gaze the moment I revealed it, and he would turn from me in revulsion.  
                      The blood was roaring in my ears, ticking down wasted time and I watched him watch me. I watched him close up, oyster shell snapping shut; wait over and moment lost to us.

"Goodbye Sloane."

The words fell flat and heavy from his lips and between the gaps in his teeth. They landed like deadweights at my feet and then he turned away with such nonchalance I wished for time to be unwritten and taken back so that I might have said what my traitorous heart had wanted to. Even if the words would change nothing, even if he left in the same way, I'd take revulsion over apathy any day. Just to know I wasn't nothing, just to know he felt anything about me at all.  
  
  


The absence of the blue haired boy prickled in the air, almost a palpable silhouette left in the space he used to occupy. Twilight began to slowly overcome the orange of the sunset that had crept it's way along the grass, the world darkening as the sun's presence disappeared entirely from the horizon.

Pain seared against my lips when the cigarette dangling from them finally ashed itself into the soft flesh. Spitting it out violently and hands flying to my scorched mouth in shock, I felt the spell break. All the sounds of the crickets and encroaching night snapped into focus.

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK._

I launched off the milk crate and took off running for the fairground gates.

Multicoloured neon lights blurred across the faces of the evening carnival-goers as they bustled through the noisy centre space. I dodged the popcorn stand and it's queue, sidestepping between excited children and their parents, pushing through the chains formed by couples and their held hands. My heart beat out war drums, my breath held as if I were underwater.

Directly ahead the brightly lit carousel spun, gilded white horses rising and falling in their endless parade. Heedless of the wildly gesticulating ride operator I ran straight up and onto the spinning platform, darting between the children clinging to the backs of their inanimate steeds before exploding out onto the opposite side.  
                      The gate was now in sight, and just beyond it a flash of blue. My legs burning, I pushed harder at the earth stretching out between us, willing the world to slow down and myself to go faster. Black spots flecked like static across my vision as 2D pulled open the passenger door to the idling taxi parked at the gates and folded his lanky body to slide inside.

"No, no! Wait! 2D!" I cried out, but the sound was caught between heaving pants and then lost in the music of the fairground.

I burst through the entrance in time to catch the sight of the red taillights of the cab as it sped away down the road, leaving me standing alone like always in the gathering dark, with only my ragged breaths and words unsaid.

He left me sinking to my knees with hands that hung limp and empty at my sides. Face upturned to the sky just as the first stars began to blink into existence, and the knowledge that it was my fault and mine alone. There was no need for the words "I love you" or the memory of what his hand felt like in mine at 1am. I held these things in cupped palms, the weight of them causing my arms to tremble before I allowed it all to run like sand between splayed fingers.

_Take this from me, take it away._

Passerby gave me wide birth as they entered the carnival, performing double takes at the employee kneeling stunned before the gate. My Tusspot Fairgrounds shirt hung crooked, slipping off one shoulder entirely, and the exposed skin prickled with goosebumps in the night air.  
                 I knew I must have looked the picture of dejection and yet I couldn't bring myself to care. A wild and glazed hysteria began to course through me, filling every vein with the urge to either laugh or sob. Neither would matter; none of this mattered. People would always leave and I would always be too cowardly to ask them to stay. To weak, too small, too scared.

Anger returned, forcing out the agony of self pity. Using it like a crutch I pushed myself to my feet, swaying only momentarily before joining the flow of people entering the fair.

_You will never be this weak again_ , I promised myself, every hard footfall crushing against the lush grass. I could still remember the smell of it on 2D's skin.

_No. Don't think of that._

I shook my head angrily to try and get the image out, stomping up the steps of the trailer. Once inside, my hand groped blindly for the light switch, before I finally located it and flicked it on. The fluorescent bulb revealed a lonely state of affairs: all his things had vanished, gone, without a trace to prove he had ever lived in the space and slept beside me. His clothes were cleared from the floor, synthesizers missing from their inconvenient placements across the table or in front of the doorway. The dishes still piled high in the sink but the pain pill bottles and migraine medicine were no longer lined up beside them.

It was a place for ghosts; a graveyard wherein I had outstayed my welcome.

Trying to ignore the things that were missing, I grabbed my holdall and began to shove the few things that were mine into it. Newly bought op shop clothes, old sneakers, underwear and toothbrush. Unable to locate my purple ringer tee I scowled and decided to leave it to the carnival, a souvenir from the girl which it had already stripped all else from.

I couldn't help but look back, just one last time before I pulled the door shut, standing on the doorstep and wondering what I had left now that everyone I loved was gone. How quickly can a world fall apart? 48 hours seemed to be the golden number; two days to end up from a housing estate in Whitehawk to a fairground in Eastbourne, and now two days to go from being a part of a dysfunctional family and living with my best friend to losing both Birdie and 2D forever.

_What do you do when everyone you love has left you? Who do you become to survive?_

There was only one other person in the entirety of Eastbourne who could answer that question, lying alone and dying slowly day by day in a caravan not far from where I now stood.

_Lou._

I didn't make the decision, my feet made it for me; always returning me back to the one person who would always own the biggest piece of my heart. The one person who I loved despite what the world had turned us into, and who in turn loved me. I ran across the distance I had placed between us, wishing it all back.

"Lou!" I called as I pushed at the door of the dilapidated caravan, feeling it give way and swing open under my touch.

I stepped inside, heart beating fast and tears welling hot and stinging in my eyes as I saw him curled up asleep on his tiny bed, my Daffy Duck plush cradled in his arms. He was gaunt, face paler than I had ever seen it and hair scruffy as it slowly grew out of his previous buzzcut. I bit my lip, guilt threatening to drown me as I realised I should never have left at all. I walked over to him, hand trembling as I reached down to stroke the side of his sleeping face.

As I watched with held breath, his silvery eyes fluttered open, gaze first alarmed and then softening as it met mine. Lou smiled sleepily, reaching out to place a warm hand over where mine rested on his temple.

"Hello stranger," he yawned, before sitting up and pulling me into a hug. The Daffy Duck toy was crushed between us as I held him tightly, trying my best not to sob and laugh at the same time as he murmured into my hair, "Jesus wept, I missed you Slo."

"I missed you too."

We stayed like that for a minute, an entire minute of time where nothing in the world felt like an unrelenting ache.

It was as I then pulled away that Lou's old disposable mobile rang from it's place on the floor beside the bed, the letter "B" flashing on the display. Birdie. I picked up the vibrating brick-like phone and handed it to him silently, watching my brother as he paused for only one moment of panicked agony before pressing to receive the call.

Holding it up to his ear, he listened for only a moment before he interrupted, "Hold on, Slo's here. I'll put you on loudspeaker."

I leant closer to understand as Birdie's frantic voice came through the phone, feeling an icy needle pierce my chest as her words turned from white noise to speech in one moment of clarity.

"This is my last favour to you both. Get out of there. Get out of Tusspot Fairgrounds now."

"Wait, what? What's happening?" Lou demanded in confusion, still waking up.

"I just handed in my official resignation to Mr Pot, and the police have showed up outside the gates with an arrest warrant. He's giving them directions to your caravan, Lou. They'll be there in two minutes," Birdie explained hurriedly, her voice a hushed whisper.

There was the sound of a male voice in the background, someone saying something that sounded like, "Ma'am, who are you talking to?"

"Just asking my grandma to come pick me up from work," we heard Birdie reply airily, the sound muffled, before her voice was loud and clear once more through the speaker.

"Run. They're coming."

The line went dead and I turned to Lou with panic already transforming my legs to liquid, but the boy was up and grabbing the holdall from me, throwing his spare clothes and cash into it quicker than I had time to think. The drug stash and naloxone kit was shoved into the side pocket then zipped up with with a violent tug of his shaking hands, before the boy shouldered the bag and grabbed my arm with his free hand to pull me along with him.

"Where are we gonna go?" I heard myself ask, voice small and cracking against the weight of the words.

Lou turned, boy reborn like a phoenix rising from the ashes as he grinned, picking up the Daffy Duck toy and placing it in my trembling grip. Later I would accidentally drop it, with no time to turn back to retrieve it as the two of us left the daft thing behind, but at the time it felt like a promise. When he answered it was both the him of the past and the present as he curled my free hand in the palm of his, beginning to run even as the words left his mouth.

"I got you Slo, don't worry, I've got you. We're gonna make it out of here."

Yet I no longer knew if we would and I didn't know anywhere that was safe anymore, but it didn't matter, it couldn't matter because it was us against the world just like always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ This concludes part one ~


	12. Enterlude

 

 

 

_you were the one I wanted to come with_  
_me, here to this place_  
_way down at the bottom of everything_  
_where the carnival clowns have set_  
_tents ablaze, the lions run free_  
_out into the forest of pine and she-oaks_  
_ring master standing in the ashes with_  
_his black leather whip drooping, frayed_  
_and when the sun came ripe and mourning_  
_it kissed the hand of every lovesick girl_  
_who knows the definition of “unrequited”_  
_to her very core_  
_farmers sowing the lands with_  
_salt instead of seed_  
_for nothing may grow here again after_  
_the rest of us have left empty fields_  
_earth smoking and blackened_  
_crows flying for the horizon, calling_  
_for the summer rains to wash the world clean_  
_and it was this place I wanted to show you_  
_so you could know I meant it when I said_  
_the trapeze act was wonderful_  
_but never meant to last._

 

 

 

 


	13. 3.0

_Winter, 2008_

It felt like days since I'd moved. The threadbare coverlet I'd cocooned my body within was like a rumpled second skin, and if I stayed deathly still in this position I could almost pretend to be cosy instead of cold. The aching emptiness of my gut had woken me, eyes flicking open like a blade.

The room was all early morning shadow with the light discoloured and grey where it fell through the window and onto the wall. Beside me Lou shifted, the faint warmth of his shivering body a welcome source of heat.

Despite shooting up only a few hours ago, soon enough his last hit would entirely leave his system, and he'd jerk awake in agonising pain and anguish. He'd grab at my clothes, whine in my ear. He'd grind his teeth and cry for more like a mewling kitten begs for the milk of it's mother, and I would cringe and cower and hope that he would leave to get more skag sooner rather than later.  
                    It was easier that way; wanting something real instead of that old fantasy I used to have of him getting clean. Better a selfish hope than a foolish one.

Once more my stomach growled ravenously, setting off a fresh pang of aching. I had to eat something soon or the starving organ would probably begin eating itself. Pushing myself to my feet, blanket still wrapped tightly around me, I left the fetid mattress lying bare on the floor and padded out into the main room of the squalid shoebox apartment. There were only beanbags for furnishings, set up in front of the blank wall where the television had sat until a few weeks ago, when Lou had pawned it to pay back DeWitt for the heroin he had used out of his dealing supply. The kitchen was set into the corner nook just beside the front door, scrappy carpet turning suddenly into greasy linoleum tiles with no attempt from whoever had built the place to make the transition easy on the eye.

Dishes stacked up high on the bench beside the sink, the food debris left on them beginning to reek. I made a mental note to get my shit together and at least clean half of them sometime soon, but between graveyard shifts at the local Tesco Express and bookkeeping for Lou I was hard-pressed to find the energy for anything most days.

It was a sore point between Lou and I; my refusal to do anything other than add up sales figures and inventory when it came to dealing. Even after I'd managed to land the job at the shitty supermarket restocking the shelves and bagging items for minimum wage, money had never been so tight. Lou had to be out constantly trying to push product for us to even come close to keeping both him and his addiction afloat, and the loss of me as his partner in crime had meant multiple muggings and rip-offs.

Living in Crawley was expensive, more expensive than it had been in both Hastings and Horsham, yet here we at least had a roof over our heads and a steady stream of clients needing supplying. The increasingly bitter and violently resentful man couldn't understand why I no longer wanted to have any part in it all. Neither did I. It may have had something to do with a blue haired boy. A promise I had to keep. Something silly and sentimental, that even the thought of made my jaw clench.

_Enough of that. Enough now._

Pushing fairgrounds and long-gone friends from my mind, I instead reminded myself of the gruelling journey out of Eastbourne all those years ago. The hours of running, walking, limping, bus rides and hitchhiking to make it to Hastings. Hiding out until the world had gone quiet and forgotten us; Birdie, blue-haired boys, and the Eastbourne police force alike. There was no room in either of our lives to regret anything we'd left behind or had to lose in order to survive. There was only the two of us running until we had gotten too tired to go any further.

Despite the stirring memories of months roughing it back in Hastings, and then later on, Horsham, I couldn't help but grit my teeth as I stepped barefoot onto the perpetually sticky and pockmarked linoleum floor of the kitchen. The refrigerator door first stuck and then jerked open to reveal empty shelves and a pervasive stale smell. The air that wafted from the space was room-temperature, signalling that we'd had our power cut off yet again.

Which meant Lou had spent the money I gave him to pay the overdue bills yesterday on heroin.

Which meant he would have some to take when he woke up in just a moment.

_The tail-end of his high won't have worn out yet. It won't be out of his system._

Hunger forgotten, panic filled the aching void of my stomach as I darted back to the bedroom.

"Don't say a word, Slo," he said, head not raising to look at me as I halted in the doorway, a mixture of bitter familiarity and disappointment curdling within me.

The needle in his hands was greedily sucking up liquid from a carefully held spoon. I watched, hands curling to fists as he raised the syringe up to the dim light from the window, silver eyes hungrily tracking the droplet that spilled down the length of the needle as he squeezed the plunger slightly, pushing the air from the hollow barrel of the tip.

"Lou -" I began but his savage look silenced me.

He placed the needle down delicately, as if putting a baby to bed, grabbing up a belt instead and looping it around his upper arm. Tightened, then one slap, two, veins bulging at the crook of his elbow and trailing down to his wrist. Lou poked at them as if he were playing  _eenie, meenie, miny, moe,_  before reaching again for the needle.

I had a feeling crawling up the back of my throat, hurdling every barrier I'd ever erected in self preservation.

"Lou you can't-"

"Shut the fuck up Sloane," he cut me off, eyes flashing up with red light warning signs before he returned his attention to the needle. Panic rose from the pit of my stomach to my chest, a surge of fear which left me gasping as I watched him press the sharp tip to the almost translucent skin that covered his swelling vein.

"Louis it's gonna give you a fucking heart attack, I know it! I just know it!" I cried out, words shrill in my own ears.

His head snapped up, eyes slits in the twisted scowl of his face. The needle pulled back from his flesh ever so slightly, a droplet glistening at it's tip. A naive hope, just for a moment, lit up along my spine. Maybe he'd listen, maybe he'd put it down and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't smear me across the wall for trying to help him.  
                  Then he spoke, and the hope shattered.

"Well if that's the case, then as long as you keep your fuckin' cunt of a mouth shut I'll at least get to die happy."

Malice glittered in his eyes, a smirk lighting up along his lips as I recoiled in fear. He was a monster, a beast with rows of shark teeth and all of them bared at me as the needle pierced the vulnerable blue cord at the crook of his elbow.

I leapt forward into the room, tripping over dirty laundry in my haste to reach him. The plunger was pulled back just a little, a swirling ribbon of red polluting the barrel of the syringe before the shot was sunk blood and all into the greedily awaiting vein.  
                      I slammed into him just as the plunger reached home, knocking him backwards too late to prevent the poison from entering his body. Lou delicately pulled the needle from his skin before his eyes flicked up at me, other hand pulling the already loosened belt from his arm. Gaze half-lidded, beginning to get dreamy, then pain lancing across my face white bright hot as he struck out with the belt like a whip between us. The buckle end landed hard and fast against the inner corner of my brow-bone, slicing the skin in a searing line of fire. A shriek of pain split the air as I reeled back, hands flying to my face. Lou slumped down, the hit finally taking him. The slickness of blood began to spring hotly from the wound beneath my hand.

He lay there, a long contented sigh escaping his lips. Skeletal body sunk wasteful and limp on the dirty mattress, and I felt it all like a traitorous knife through the base of my spine.

_You're a waste Lou, you're a fucking waste._

Biting back angry tears I rose to stand over him. Him, the boy who had taught me how to ride a bike, how to balance light as a feather when running along fences and supermarket roofs. The boy who had made me stand behind him so I didn't have to watch when they led our mum to the car in handcuffs, didn't have to watch as they drove her away. The boy who'd promised it was us against the world and the man who'd forced it to truly be exactly that. The man who had sold me out for drug money; had merely watched as his junkie friends dragged me from the caravan screaming. The boy with the world in his hands and the man who'd thrown it away. It hurt so much I could taste it, acrid and bubbling across my tongue.

"I hate you," I whispered, and I meant it and meaning it hurt more than all of it combined.

It was then, with all that pain scorching my body to ash, that it finally dawned on me that Lou's lips were turning blue.

_No._

Bending down, my hands fisted in his shirt, the thin cotton so worn it almost tore as I yanked him upright. A frothy bile seeped from the corner of his mouth as his head lolled, a rag-doll with peach fuzz hair.

Stricken, I shook him by the shoulders violently, yelling out his name in pure panic.

_No no no don't leave me Lou don't leave me_

But he wouldn't wake, face grey and slack. His pallid features blurred as tears welled up hot and stinging across my vision and it was gonna be this way, he was gonna be hazy and indistinct and haunt me forever if I didn't fucking do something.

_Naloxone._

The thought broke through the jumble of terrified thoughts like neon in the dark. I still had the packet 2D had found in the First Aid kit that day back at the fair, buried at the bottom of my underwear drawer.

_Just in case._

2D. The thought of him lanced through my body, causing me to inhale sharply through my nose.   
                          The room smelt off; almost rotten and strangely chemical at the same time. Dizzy, I let Lou's body sink back down onto the bed before stumbling over to the window and wrenching it open. Frigid morning air blew into the room, instantly clearing my head as I gulped it in. I couldn't tell if my panicked mind had led me to feel so sick suddenly, but I was quite sure I could still smell the strange aroma of decay and bleach that had been permeating the room.

The confusion took a backseat as I turned and rummaged through the top drawer in the dresser, hand snatching at the box concealed inside. It was as I tore it open that the window slammed shut with a loud bang. My head whipped to look but it had seemingly slid closed of it's own accord. The strange smell from before returned tenfold, the air beginning to mist and waver. My head was spinning and yet I had no time for fresh air, not a second to waste to reopen the window.

And yet.

My hands had become slow and clumsy, fumbling with the needle as I tried to prep it via the written instructions on the box. The writing warped in shape, twisting out of comprehension as I blinked dumbly at it. Lou lay dying in breathless ecstasy and I was choking on gas instead of saving him.

_Gas?_

A prickle ran through me, the realisation of what the sickening smell and haze in the air must be. I dropped the still safely capped needle on the bed beside the unconscious boy, fingers trembling and jerking sporadically.

_Open the fucking window NOW._

Dragging my increasingly unresponsive body back over to the wall, I had to strain with every muscle in my bony arms to push the window open once more. Shoving my head into the grey early morning beyond, I inhaled deeply before leaping back to my brother's side. My hand reached out for the naloxone syringe only for it to fall empty against sheets, fingers groping for something that was seemingly no longer there.  
                   Wrenching my gaze from Lou, I scanned the rumpled sheets desperately, my heart pulsing in my mouth.

_Where did it..._  but I never finished the thought, for something shifted at the very edge of my vision.

There was a black seething mass standing in the doorway. It's shape seemed formed of inky fumes, shifting and billowing before coalescing into something substantial; before falling into nightmare.  
                  It wore some sort of rubbery cloak, which melded into a gas mask that covered the entirety of it's head. The red circular lenses of the mask were entirely opaque, no hint of what terrifying being lurked behind. As it towered over me, terror sent my body icy cold and freezing under it's gaze. One of the creature's elongated arms lifted, extending out towards me, the sheeny gloved hand unfurling to reveal an object sitting atop the black of it's palm.

The naloxone needle.

My mouth went dry, tongue clicking against the roof of my mouth as I tried to swallow whilst facing off against a seven-foot demonic being. It's red eye portholes flashed as it tilted it's head, watching my nervous reaction. I wanted to scream and make a run for the window, but the knowledge that Lou would certainly die if I did kept me rooted in place. If not at the hands of this creature, then definitely from the heroin drowning the blood in his veins. The bruised pockets of his eyes had gone almost black, face ashen, The man looked like he had already become a skull. As if he'd been dead for years and I'd only just noticed. A thick lump formed in my throat as I turned back to the creature, whose head was cocked slightly in interest as it watched the proceedings.

"I need that back," I told it, voice wavering as a shaky hand dared reach out and point to the needle. The thing's gas mask snout jerked to follow the movement of my finger, and in panic I retracted the suddenly all too vulnerable appendage.

"Please."

The acrid stench permeating the room intensified. It lined my throat all acidic and biting as I waited for some sort of response with time I no longer had. Lou's involuntary spasms ceased underneath my protective hand, the shallow wheeze of his breath barely audible.  
                 Eyes wide, I searched the creature's inhuman face for something, anything, but it stared back at me devoid of anything recognisable as emotion. It didn't care, it was merely waiting for the fumes to render me unconscious. The only way to get the syringe would be to snatch it from the hand of the thing itself.

Light-headed yet steeled by the sudden spike of rage which ripped through me, I felt my lip curl into a snarl. My legs trembled as I rose to stand defiant on the bed.

"Fuck you," I spat, before lunging for the needle.

The creature's arm was thin and hard beneath it's rubbery cape as my hand clamped tight around it's wrist. It reared back, dragging me up and into the air as it tried to hold the naloxone out of my reach. My feet dangled as I used my free hand to swipe at the needle with no results. The thing hissed, shaking it's arm violently to try and get me to break the death-grip, before it's other claw-like hand came up to grab me by the hood of my sweater. I felt the sharp pain of my windpipe being cut off as it yanked viciously at the clothing, and I choked against the pressure.

Grip loosening, it only took another violent shake for me to let go and hang helpless by the scruff of the neck. It lifted me to it's eye level, the two scarlet portholes burning as they filled my vision, before the world blurred fast and straight as my rag-doll body was flung backwards. I hit the opposing wall, the impact rattling along every vertebrae in my spinal column and flaring hot lancing pain through my skull as it connected with the drywall. Then to the floor and everything feeling like shattering glass as I slammed against it.

For a few moments the only sound was white noise as the dark slid across my eyes. Defeat rippled through me, a numbing shockwave that settled as comfortably as an old friend in the pockets of my aching joints, the throbbing column of my back.

_You could stay here, we could be happy._

Words,  _his_  words, echoing up through buried layers of memory like the ashes of a burnt down dream.

_No._

My eyes flicked open. For a moment I could see the pale and blueing skin of Lou's hand where it hung limp over the side of the mattress just inches from my face, before the sound of the window thudding to a close tore my eyes from the sight.

The creature stood hunched and seething above me, thick coils of greenish fume leaking from the folds in it's cloak. The decayed stench left me gagging, weakly trying to get to my feet. I placed down a shaky hand to push myself upright but it skidded out from underneath me, Lou's discarded belt slippery under my palm. The world seemed to be spinning at odds with the swirling inside my head, blurring my vision and leaving me breathless with nauseating vertigo. The thing's arms were hidden within it's cloak, naloxone syringe nowhere in sight.

I had failed. The knowledge tasted bitter and empty at the back of my throat. I looked up at the creature which towered over me, then across at the hand of the dying man, of my beautiful belligerent older brother.  
                   He'd never get clean, or go back to find Birdie. He'd never be able to get out of this place, where dreams were for the dead and no one even cared enough to wait and see if you'd prove them wrong. And my brother would prove nothing and prove no one wrong, except me. Except the girl who'd watched him tell stories from the shadows of his hands in the streetlight. He'd had all the time in the world and so suddenly there was none.

_He would have fought harder for me._

At first the words were a punch in the gut, before I felt my fingers curling into fists. White knuckled, I pushed myself onto my hands and knees, wheezing for air. The creature cocked it's head, hissing as I bared my teeth in an animalistic snarl of my own.

But it should have been watching my hands.

Lou's belt buckle flashed silver in the air as I whipped it at the creature's face mask. There was a cracking sound, red tinted glass spraying into the air like blood as I launched forward, burying my fists deep in the creature's side. The cloak billowed under the force, giving way until my knuckles sunk into the hard and emaciated form beneath.

The creature made a sharp gasping sound, rearing back as the naloxone needle clattered to the floor. I snatched it up, wasting no time to leap beside my brother and tear back the tattered blanket to expose his thigh. The needle jagged sickeningly as I rammed it into his upper leg, depressing the plunger as fast as I could. It lowered achingly slowly against the unyielding flesh of his skeletal limb.

Too slowly.

Only half the barrel had been emptied before I was yanked savagely backwards by my hair, letting out an involuntary shriek of pain as the roots were almost wrenched entirely from my scalp. Hands reaching out in vain for the needle that was embedded in Lou's thigh, the view was suddenly blocked as the creature swung me to face it.

An icy terror prickled alive inside my chest, constricting my lungs and extinguishing the fire of the fight. Just as the belt buckle has sliced open my eye, with the force of the blow I had shattered the left gas mask lens. Virulent smog seeped from the empty socket, flashes of dusky green skin rippling beneath, mottled and shiny as if coated thinly in slime. A viscous dark brown fluid seeped sluggishly from around a shard of red glass which had punctured the sagging flesh of it's closed eyelid. As I watched in horror, the eye opened, all acid green with no pupil, bloodshot and furious. A strange rattling breathy sound rose from it's throat like a growl.

I felt like I'd come face to face with a devil I didn't believe in, with no way to escape the hell it had in store. I almost whimpered a prayer for help, fear staining my skin with cold sweat, before I swallowed the words back down.

I didn't believe in god, I believed in Lou. I believed in us making it out of there alive.

The creature's large bleeding eye narrowed, bringing my dangling body closer until I could smell it's fetid breath. I gasped in pain as my hair twisted in it's hand, and the verdant skin at the corner of it's eye crinkled up as if it were smiling.  
                      It became suddenly all too clear that the gas-leaking creature was enjoying my pain, relishing in my brother's slowing heartbeat. Yet the realisation made me brave instead of hopeless, full of love instead of hate.

_Put on your Brave Face._

"You, my flatulent friend, are one ugly motherfucker," I informed it, grinning my most Lou-like shit-eating grin before kicking out at the creature's abdomen as hard as my sleepy muscles would allow.

The toes of my bare foot crunched audibly on impact with it's unyielding body, gas puffing out from the point of connection even as the creature doubled over at the sudden blow. As soon as my feet touched the floor I tore myself free from it's grip, leaving large chunks of dark hair clutched between it's gloved fingers.

_The needle the needle the needle -_

**Schlick.**

The wet thudding sound echoed the entire way up my body, followed closely by the sensation of something scraping bone. There was a split second of whiteness shocking through me, filling my vision, obscuring taste, smell and touch, before pain bloomed from the bottom of my ribcage. My gaze unwillingly fell from my brother's unconscious form to where the creature's talons had split through it's gloves to be buried, deep and pulsing, in the unprotected meat of my diaphragm.

Using my bottom rib like a handle, it pulled me back towards itself until my curling spine was flush against it. Red began to soak the front of my sweater, dripping hyper-colour onto the floorboards.

Darkness rose up and over the hills to greet me, everything flashing in and out of focus as if connected to my shuddering heartbeat. Before the world disappeared from me, the last thing I saw was the blue boy on the bed, naloxone needle a half-formed promise in the landscape of his leg.

_Please wake up, Lou._

He didn't stir, and the light died in my eyes right before unconsciousness embraced me the exact way the creature did; with an arm holding me back from screaming as I realised that Lou McLeod was dead.

He was gone from the world, and there would be no screaming because in a moment so was I.


	14. 3.1

Darkness, darkness, and then the light.

It came unwelcome and shy, pulling at my heavy eyelids and whispering about the dawn.

The dawn could go get fucked as far as I was concerned.

I was lying facedown on something hard and unyielding, wind whipping at my remaining hair and exposed skin. Somewhere nearby someone was arguing but who with I could not tell; theirs seemed to be the only voice speaking.

"I bloody well told you already, yeagnh? You get payment when I get my album finished."

I scrunched my eyes closed tighter, letting sleep sink their voice back into mumbled mist and shadow. I didn't care. Who could care? There was nothing left of the world anymore; Lou was dead.

_Who's fault is that?_

Guilt and wretched sorrow sliced through me like a knife at the terrible memory of it. As unconsciousness stole me away, I cried out his name into the unknown abyss stretching out before me, hoping maybe he'd hear. Hoping against foolish hope that perhaps he'd find his way through the fog and take my hand, and lead me away from this place.

Above me I heard a laugh. Then everything went back to darkness.

\----------------

"Yes, I agree cyborg; she's definitely not as pretty as we were told."

No one had spoken, yet the nasally grunting voice replied anyway, cutting through the comatose bliss I had been basking in.

Wincing, I grit my teeth and pushed my face further into the folds of cloth I was resting on. I didn't want to wake. Once I opened my eyes, it'd be the first time I'd looked at a version of life without my brother in it.

I'd rather stay ignorant to what that would look like.

"Ehheh rise and shine sleeping... well, I can't really say beauty now can I?" Came the voice again, guffawing at their own joke.

I almost laughed bitterly as well, if only at how little I cared as to whether my unknown captor believed me to be attractive or not. My heart felt like raw and ruptured meat, an agony the likes of which I'd never known before. Everything else was numb and dull, pushed to colourless silhouettes of perception in the wake of the terrible grief eating me inside out.

"Aww, no hard feelings, love," the gravelly voice probed through the darkness, "I am  _terribly_  sorry about the manhandling that boogieman had to do to get you here, but face-ache needed some motivation and you seemed to be my best bet, ngghehh."

_Face-ache?_

"The worst bleeding shame is that bald patch. For lack of a better word, I'd say it makes you one of the most  _hideous_  birds I've ever laid eyes on; and I had it on with Paula Cracker herself hehhehgh."

Curiosity was getting the better of me, willing my eyes to open even just a crack.

"Ehh but with any luck 2D will still fuck you."

At the familiar name I snapped to attention, body freezing as I listened intently for the first time since beginning to wake.

_Is he saying..._ **_2D_ ** _had me brought here...?_

"Unghuhuhuh that got your attention," the tormenting voice chortled, tone dripping with self satisfaction.

"What the fuck are you prattling on about, you radge cunt?" I exploded, finally opening my eyes to glare at my malicious companion.

Shock rattled through me as I came face to face with the snaggle-toothed smile of a man whose skin could only be described as a decidedly rotten green. A greasy black bowl cut fringe came down to just above his hooded eyes, one of which was so infected and bloodshot that it looked as if it had been glazed pink. The bridge of his nose was a sorry state of broken, crooked affairs; bulging with badly-set shattered cartilage.

"Now now, there's no need to be hostile. I've been nothing if not hospitable to you since you arrived on my huhgng... wonderrrrful island," the green man purred, sounding more amused than anything else. He had a strange way of drawing out the end of his sentences, or adding in odd grunting groans for seemingly no effect other than to cast a slightly sleazy slant on everything he said.

I decided instantly that I didn't like him.

"Are you the father of that ugly gassy fucker that attacked me?" I asked him, voice falling into a deadpan that gave no hint as to whether I was serious or not, "Because I saw what's under his mask and you two look verrrrry alike."

Between the insult towards his complexion and my mimicry of the way he rolled his r's, I expected the strange man to seethe with rage or to even hit me for my insolence, but instead he merely froze, blinking at me for a second.

"... there's something... beneath the mask?" He muttered to himself, before clicking his fingers at someone behind him. I couldn't see past the doorway who it was, but the green man murmured to them just out of earshot whilst I took a chance to look around the room I found myself in.

It was a metal box, constructed from multiple pieces of scrap screwed haphazardly together. The bed I lay on was a twin-sized mattress, propped up on wooden pallets which stuck out slightly either side of the neatly made bedspread. There was a sink with a mirror above it, although it was hard to imagine what view I'd ever have of myself in it when having to look through the row of vertical bars that had been nailed into the wall across it, as if the interior decorator had taken inspiration from a prison cell.

Nothing else adorned the room, and I found my gaze tracking back to the green man standing in the doorway, dressed in a black turtleneck and a ship captain's hat for reasons I couldn't even begin to guess at. He finished his hushed conversation and turned back to me, smiling crookedly.

"Sloane love, we got off on the wrong foot. As you surely know, hngehheh, my name is Murdoc Niccals. Founding member of the world famous band Gorillaz, playboy, anti-philanthropist, bassist, satanist," he introduced himself, extending out a hand sporting long talon-like nails towards me and laughing heartily at my reluctance to shake it.

"How the fuck do you know my name?" I blurted in uncomfortable surprise, before clenching my jaw as he took great joy in mimicking me.

"Oooh, how tae fook dae ya know me naem?" He squeaked in a terrible attempt at a Scottish accent, feigning an expression of love struck wonder that I very much doubted I actually wore.

"Don't try me, I will  _ruin you_ old man," I threatened in a venomous hiss, but Murdoc only seemed to find my words deeply amusing as he covered his mouth with a moss-coloured hand and faked a yawn.

"I'm shaking in my boots," he intoned, before sniggering and stepping further into the tiny room so that a petite Asian girl could enter past him.

Choppy black hair hung messy over her eyes and stuck out in unruly spikes that only just brushed her shoulders, face flat and expressionless in a way that seemed unnatural for someone so young. She moved at a prowl towards me, and I found myself shuffling backwards on the bed in alarm until I was backed up against the wall in an effort to stay out of her reach. She didn't react, just merely placed the folded towel in her arms beside me and stepped away.   
As she left the room, I let my gaze flick back to Murdoc, who was watching the girl leave with an unreadable look in his rheumy eyes.

"Well off you pop then," He said suddenly, attention back on me as he gestured towards the door. I cleared my throat, dazed and very confused at what exactly was going on.

"Where to...?"

"The bathroom you blithering dimw-" Murdoc began to reply in exasperation, before cutting himself off and trying again, "... Er I mean,  _lovely_. We have to get all that dried blood off your face before I take you up to see your old flame."

Stupefied by his words, I fumbled to comprehend what he was getting at whilst my stalling instincts fortunately kicked in.

"Billy Jones, the Tesco cashier? We hooked up in the broom closet a couple of times but I really wouldn't call him an old flame..." I played dumb, speaking in a disinterested monotone as I tried to pry more information out of the strange green man. Murdoc for his part merely looked exhausted as I added, "I think he thinks I nicked his wallet as well."

"Yes, I have Billy whatever-his-name-is waiting for you upstairs, he's decided he loves you despite your early-onset balding," He snapped, rolling his eyes as he marched over and yanked me off the bed by my forearm.

"Oh good, I'll give him back his wallet then."

"You think you're verrrry clever, missy!" Murdoc sneered, shoving the towel and pile of toiletries into my arms as he taunted, "If you're  _truly_  so smart, then tell me exactly what it is you think you're here for? What purpose do you serve me?"

He pushed me roughly between the shoulder blades, the flat of his palm digging against my bruised spine as I was propelled from the room and into the hallway. My elbow was grabbed in a vicelike grip by the small Asian girl as I stumbled out into the unfamiliar space, holding me upright as I turned to reply to the jeering man.

"From what I've seen and heard so far, you got a creepy motherfucker in a gas mask to kidnap me and bring me to... an island, did you say?" I drawled, hatred burning like acid in my gut, "And for what? Not a clue. Is it because I used to know your radge cunt of a lead singer?"

Murdoc laughed low in his throat, shaking his head as if he pitied someone as stupid as me. His air of superiority had me fuming as the silent girl began to march me down the hall away from him, and it was only once we were about to turn the corner and be lost from sight that he finally called out his answer.

"No, no Sloane. You're not here because you used to know the face-ache," He sniggered, "You're here because when he cries out in his sleep, it's  _your name_  I hear most often."

Then the strange little girl was pulling me along with her down the next corridor and towards a brightly lit doorway at the other end, dizzying confusion flooding my senses. Closed doors were interspersed along the walls, with one open every now and then to reveal empty rooms that resembled the one I had awoken in. For a fleeting moment I thought I saw someone sitting on the bed through the small gap between the door and the frame of one room, but she walked too quickly for me to get a proper look at who it was inside.

I was bustled into what looked like a dingy public bathroom, with stalls in rows either side of the room. The only sound came from a set of taps that dribbled a constant stream of water into a cracked ceramic sink, echoing through the deserted space. The small girl marched me to the left side of the aisle, pushing me into a locker room styled shower cubicle.

"I'm fine without a shower thanks," I snapped, trying to dash out past her, but was shoved backwards as if I'd just tried to run into a brick wall.

She didn't speak, blinking at me without any expression whatsoever as I attempted to stare her down. A prickle of anxiety sparked through me, and I sighed in defeat as I threw the towel and toiletries on the little bench inside the cubicle and shut the stall door in her face. Despite the fact the wooden panel would have only been an inch from slamming into the girl's nose, she did not take even so much as a step back, her shadow hovering in the exact same place outside the door.

Shuddering, I tried not to think about her insidious presence as I began to peel the bloodstained clothes from my battered body. It all seemed too surreal to be anything but some terrible dream I was having, still lying shivering beside Lou, yet the pain stinging in every bruise and scrape I'd collected during the fight against the "boogieman" creature said otherwise. My ribs ached where they'd been punctured, and as I finally managed the excruciating task of pulling my sweater off over my head I was surprised to see a set of stitches in the pallid and bruised flesh of my torso.

_Who...?_

Four stab marks had rent the skin just below my lowest rib, black with dried blood and held together by someone's careful needlework. I brushed my fingers tentatively across the threads, flinching at the sensation whilst I wondered how long I had been unconscious.  
                  Or maybe just how long it was since Lou had been killed by his own sister's weak incompetence. Lying as food for rats in a run-down Crawley apartment, left to rot until the landlord finally came knocking to see why we were late on the rent.

I put my hand to my mouth to stifle my own raw and aching sob at the thought, eyes squeezing shut as if I could block the image out. Yet still it crawled towards me, peeling back my eyelids and grinning with sharp animal teeth.

_Your fault, yours alone._

Gasping for air, I wrenched the cold tap on full blast and stepped under the icy spray without bothering to undress any further. The water beat down against my skull, drumming out the imagined sound of Lou crying for help and drowning my own accusatory voice. It streamed down my face, stinging in the cut on my eyebrow and pouring into my open gaping mouth as I tried my best to breathe. All I could taste was salt.

Shivering uncontrollably, I grabbed for the bar of white soap that sat on top of the towel I'd been given, alongside a ladies razor. The cake lathered bubbles over my body and face as I dragged it viciously along the bruised skin, watching the bubbles go pinky red with flakes of dried blood. In a fit of sudden numb and empty anger, I crushed the bar in my grasp until it became imprinted with my finger marks gripped around it, before pegging it out of the shower cubicle. There was a loud bang as it hit one of the far walls.

Picking up the ladies razor, I turned it in my hands, considering the cold and shimmering edge of the blade whilst the salty water crashed down against my shoulders. There was a guilty whispering in my head, goading me as I stared at the sharp shard of metal encased within the plastic tool in my hands.

_Your brother is dead, and it's your fault. If you hadn't been taken here..._

Something far angrier than guilt stirred, lifting it's head to the surface of my consciousness as the memory of Murdoc's words echoed in the dark space.

_Face-ache needed some motivation and you seemed to be my best bet..._

The green man had had me brought to this strange prison-like place because he thought 2D wanted me in some way. In some way enough that I could... motivate him? But motivate him to do what? And how? He was the one who had pushed me out of his life, why in the world would he suddenly have me uprooted from my own and placed back as if the past five years hadn't happened?

It didn't matter, all that mattered was the fact that it was 2D who'd had me brought here. Confusion melted my turbulent emotions into a boiling maelstrom of discontent, outrage, and grief. I sunk to the floor, sitting under the unbearably cold stream of water until I couldn't feel a thing.

The razor was still in my hands, and in a moment of self-hateful spite I reached up with it and began to use the sharp edge to hack my remaining locks of dark matted hair from my head. In a sawing motion, I sliced away fistfuls as close as I could cut to the scalp without all-out shaving it and stared blindly at the tiles beneath me.

There was a knock on the stall door, Murdoc's nasal drawl calling out to me through the barrier, "Bloody well hurry up in there, I haven't got all day."

I ignored him, grabbing the last stray strands of black hair at the base of my neck and haphazardly hacking them off. Dropping the razor with a clatter, I rubbed my scalp with both hands, feeling the ridges of the uneven spikes of hair that stuck out less than a centimetre over my entire head. In a few spots the tufts were slightly longer, and I started to make a noise that I thought was a laugh before I realised it was a high, keening sob.

"Sloane?" Murdoc asked sharply, knocking again as he demanded, "Don't make me come in there, I'd hate to have to see you alllllll wet and naked henghheh."

There was a long pause as he waited for my answer, but I felt like I was choking as I cradled my prickly head in my hands, bare chested with my sopping track pants glued to me like a second skin.

_I want to go home I want to go home someone take me home_

"Hey, look love, I really  _don't_  want to see you naked. It'd be like the time Madonna flashed me her tits at the Grammys afterparty; unexpected, unpleasant, and unwelcome to say the least. Chassis like a beaten down old honda hehhgheh. Ghastly stuff," Murdoc continued uncomfortably into the silence, still grunting to himself at his own humour but sounding more and more tentative as he was met with no response.

I heard murmuring as he conversed with the strange little Asian girl for a moment, before there was the loud banging of a fist against the stall door.

"Sloane! If you don't open up this instant I will use your bald patch to buff the barrel of my cyborg's rifle, do you understand?" He snapped, and I flinched and cowered into the corner of the shower.

_Cyborg...? Does he mean the little girl?_

A second passed, a double beat of my rabbit-like heart before the door was blown inwards with a loud and echoing boom, splinters of wood raining down as shrapnel. I screamed, covering my face with my hands as a large piece of the door ricocheted off the wall just above where I crouched.

Distantly I could hear Murdoc swearing profusely in an angrily muttered string of words, then I felt the stream of icy water cut off. Looking up from the foetal position I'd curled into, I gulped back a yelp of fear as I was met with the sight of the little girl standing over me with one hand twisting the tap off, the smoking barrel of a rifle pointed directly in my face.

"No! NO! That's quite enough from you," the green man protested, flapping his hands to shoo the girl out of the shower cubicle as he jumped all flustered to my defence. He seemed for the first time sheepish as he shook his head at the carnage of splintered door and shattered tiles around me, scolding, "I told you to break the bleeding door down not blow it to smithereens."

He reached out to help me up, green hands gentle, but I smacked them away with a vicious, "Don't touch me."

Murdoc raised his eyebrows slightly so that they disappeared even further into his fringe but otherwise said nothing, holding out the towel and looking politely away while I shakily stood and stepped into it. Wrapping the dry cloth around my shoulders, I yanked my pants off from underneath and stepped out of them, leaving them wet and ruined on the floor as I strode past my two captors.

I didn't recognise myself in the scratched bathroom mirror; a barefoot girl draped in white terry-towelling, hair shorn to a messy blend of peach fuzz and prickly tufts that made her resemble a patient at a mental asylum. Along the upper bridge of her nose and up to her eyebrow was a thick gouge, scabbed dark red and ugly, and when I uncaringly dropped the towel from around myself to stand bare and terribly naked in the dim lights I could see a patchwork of bruises down the length of her slim body. The black stitching holding the skin together at the base of her ribcage was alike to something belonging on the body of Frankenstein's monster.

"Who did this?" I asked numbly, pointing at the medical work with a trembling finger.

"I did, and for the love of Satan please put some clothes on," Murdoc snapped, retreating from the bathroom with a green hand pressed over his eyes.

Feeling defensive, I rewrapped myself in the damp towel, dripping as I followed him down the hall with a sullen, "I don't have any, you dumb radge."

"Hmmph, I had some mailed here weeks ago, when I first sent out The Boogieman to track you down," the green man sniffed, as if offended that I thought he wouldn't have had the foresight to think this far ahead. Then, with a vicious scowl aimed at me he added, "And what the bloody hell did you do to your hair?"

I resolutely ignored him, clutching the towel closer to myself as he continued grumbling the entire way back to the cramped space I now supposed was my assigned room. There was a set of clothes laid out on the bed, consisting of a set of lacy black lingerie and hauntingly familiar dress, shimmering in baby blue satin where it draped across the sheets.

_Puking up bourbon like black blood and crying out the question "why?" and knowing I was nothing I was truly nothing at all because he fucked **her**  and  **her**  and  **her** and everyone it seemed but me could see it coming that he was gonna fuck me up too but he wouldn't have to take my clothes off to do it-_

"No," I said, voice as sharp as the knifelike memory that the mere sight of the dress stirred. On further inspection I realised it wasn't the same one, just eerily similar, but the damage had already been done.

"What do you mean, ' _no_ '? I had to act nice to 2D for a whole  _hour_  to coax the description of this outfit out of him," Murdoc protested, seemingly floored by my cold response, "This is the kind of thing you like to wear, right?"

"Maybe when I was seventeen," I muttered bitterly, hugging my arms around myself as if to keep the onslaught of painful memories at bay. I'd been trying not to think about that awful night for years, and yet here it was waiting for me; the evidence of how truly unloveable I was and always would be.

"Well, there's nothing else hmmm? So you'll be either wearing this or nothing hnngheheh."

"Then I'll be wearing nothing," I snapped, fastening my towel tighter around myself as I shot Murdoc a venomous glare.

"Righto! Let's go play with loverboy then, shall we?" he asked cheerily, clapping his hands together before shoving me by the small of my back out of the bedroom and down to the opposite end of the hallway. Alarmed by his complete change of tone, I could only try my best to back-pedal as I was buffeted along towards a set of elevator doors. 

A sharp-nailed green finger pressed the button for the lift, and the doors squeaked open as if the mechanism was full of rust. The interior was heavily graffitied, lit by a single bulb that flickered sporadically above. Murdoc pushed me inside despite me leaning my full weight against his hands to try and avoid entering the shuddering, creaking deathtrap, then joined me with his cyborg lackey as the doors clanged to a close.

I watched with a scowl as the lift rose, dinging brightly as we reached the floor directly above:  _B2_.

The doors wrenched themselves apart with another screech of metal scratching against metal, and then before I could properly survey the room beyond I was shoved roughly into it, tripping as I tried not to fall flat on my face.

"Face-ache! After listening to you pining for weeks I've finally gone and collected your good old pal for you!" Murdoc called out from behind me, and I whipped my head around to fix him with a mutinous look. The green man grinned and winked as he added, "Out of the goodness of my heart, a gift for my favourite lead singer with oh, only a few strings attached."

"Uhh, what? What you sayin'?"

_That voice._

Eyes widening, I turned to follow the lilting rasping sound of it, heart thudding hard. Memories of running soaked through the sunshine and lying under the stars atop a carousel roof flickered somewhere at the back of my mind as I swept my gaze across the cluttered room.

And there he was, sitting up slowly from the bed as his fathomless black eyes met mine, lips already beginning to curl into the smile that I'd looked for and found in no one else. Wide grin like all the world's joy held in a single body and being shared with only me for the briefest fraction of time.

"Sloane!"

I stood drooping, wilting with a breathless warmth I had forgotten the sensation of, and the blue-haired man was standing and running to catch me in his arms as if drawn by a magnetic pull. Everything was numb echoing shock prickling across my skin as he held me tightly, coughing as he cried out with wordless delight. He lifted me off the ground, spinning in a dizzying circle of exuberance before setting me lightly back on the metal floor, still grinning as he leaned forward to ruffle my newly cropped hair.

"For a moment there I fought you were Lou."

His words were light, laughing. He didn't know, he couldn't know. I felt my frozen form begin to thaw, rage sending me superheated and tight fisted as I listened to the sound of my brother's name echo from the very lips which were to blame for me being here.

And if I hadn't been taken here, I could have given Lou the naloxone.

"Lou..." I repeated, dazed and furious before my voice became a ferocious snarl, "... Lou would  _still be alive if it weren't for you_."

And then my wrathful hands were around his throat and squeezing as hard as I possibly could, screaming every sad and angry thing I'd ever wanted to say to him except all at once so it made no sense.

" _You_  were the one who left  _me_ , not the other way around! Promised it'd be fine but nothing was fine again-"

2D yelped at my sudden violence, black eyes flying wide like two deep holes in the pale expanse of his face as he scrabbled at my tightening grip with his clumsy fingers.

"- and I trusted you! With  _everything_  I had! And you took it all and then said it  _wasn't enough_ -"

Murdoc yelled something from the doorway to the lift, something that sounded like, "Ohforthesweetloveofsatan!" yet I was beyond listening as I increased the pressure in my stranglehold around his neck.

My face was contorted in white hot rage as 2D's began to turn red and then purple, horrific rasping sounds coming from his constricted airway as he fought for air. The hands on mine scratched and pulled, black eyes glazing over as they stared with pure panic into my own.

"- andI  _hate you_ , I hate you so fucking much it makes me  _fucking sick_  that I ever lov-" I choked on the end of my sentence as I was yanked suddenly backwards, 2D gasping as I lost my grip on his throat.

I snatched at the empty air in front of me, before screeching in bloodthirsty fury as my arms were clamped at my sides. Craning my neck to look over my shoulder, I scowled and spat at the small girl who held me with inhuman strength.

"Tch tch, spitting at my Cyborg Noodle? I might have to get her to teach you some manners," Murdoc scolded disapprovingly, walking from behind me and into view.

With a nod to his little minion, I shrieked in pain as she tightened her bear hug around my midriff. The pressure caused a few of the stitches in my ribs to rip from the skin, opening the claw wounds afresh with a fiery sting that left me gasping.

"Sloane, I don't understand," 2D was coughing out, holding his crushed throat in shaking hands, "What's happened ta Lou? Why'd you fink it's my fault?"

"Don't say his name! Don't you dare say his name!" I shouted breathlessly past the agonising constriction of my ribcage, twisting viciously in the cyborg's grip as I stared into the face of the boy I once loved and saw nothing but a selfish fool look back.

"Well! This has been wonderrrfully entertaining, but I think that's enough excitement for one day," Murdoc announced into the chaos, clasping his hands together with a smirk as he looked between the terrified blue-haired man and I.

"Murdoc, what 'ave you done?" 2D wheezed, backing as far away from me as the room would allow, "Why'd you bring Sloane here?"

"As a gift!" Murdoc jeered, rolling his eyes before holding his pointy chin and pausing for a moment in thought, "Hmm but this is better. The whale is enough to keep you in here but is clearly not enough incentive to get you to sing for me on the new album..."

"I did sing! I sang that one about the Stylo and electricity and stuff" 2D protested snottily, displaying a sullen attitude I had only ever seen him display once before, towards his father years ago. Murdoc visibly seethed at being spoken back to, and I watched his hand twitch as he just barely refrained from striking out towards the other man.

"One song, then weeks of complaints and excuses like the snivelling halfwit you are. Anyway! I thought if I brought you the girl you always used to blither on about back at Kong Studios then maybe you'd be more inclined to  _willingly_  participate," Murdoc explained through gritted teeth, rubbing the bridge of his lumpy and crooked nose in frustration, before brightening considerably as he continued, "Although clearly I hadn't realised that you'd  _of course_  already managed to make her hate you. Funny that, how every woman you've ever met ends up thinking you're repulsive."

" _You're_  one to talk..." 2D muttered, but flinched and trailed off when the green man raised his hand towards him in an unspoken threat.

"Sloane, my apologies darling, but I was very intent on you being some sort of... shall we say,  _physical reward_  for our mutual disappointment 2D over there? Ghastly stuff I know, huhnhughhuhh," Murdoc addressed me, chuckling nastily before finishing, "But luckily for you, it seems you're more effective as a terrifying punishment."

Trying to ignore the slight sting in his words, I curled my lip in distaste as the man who seemed intent on being my jailer signalled to the cyborg girl with a careless click of his fingers. Still restraining my arms in her vicelike grip, she frog marched me back into the waiting elevator. We turned and waited as Murdoc sauntered after us, voice full of mirth as he continued to sneer towards 2D.

"I'll give you a day to rest up that bruised throat of yours,  _two dents_ , and then tomorrow I'll see you bright and early in the Plastic Beach recording booth."

The defeated looking man still cowering at the far end of the room ran a hand through his blue hair as he asked sulkily, "... and what if I don't feel like singin'?"

Murdoc's smile was sharp and gleeful as he joined the cyborg and I in the creaking elevator, calling out his reply as the doors began to close on our view of 2D.

"Then I'll be bringing Sloane back here for a friendly visit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the old Sloane can't come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, because she's dead. 


	15. 3.2

Murdoc Niccals hummed happily as he led me from the elevator and into the brightly lit space beyond, blood leaking sluggishly from the burst stitches in my abdomen. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the natural light, looking around the wide open-plan room we found ourselves in dazedly. I was still reeling from seeing 2D, heart thudding hard beneath my sternum whilst fast flashes of unwelcome memories created a lightning storm within my mind.

The green-skinned man sauntered over to the oakwood desk sitting in front of a large fish tank display and began rummaging through the drawers, whilst the cyborg girl he'd called "Noodle" earlier stood frozen at the elevator.

"Come on, make yourself comfortable," Murdoc encouraged, pulling a small metal tin from the desk drawer he'd been rummaging through and gesturing to the blood leaking scarlet through the material of the towel I was wrapped in, "But if I'm going to be stitching you back up you're going to have to promise to be more careful with yourself, mmnyeah?"

Uncomfortable with how differently he was acting towards me since my violent run-in with 2D, I looked away from his shrewd gaze as I gestured to Noodle with a grumpy mutter, "Aye, but only if you keep that tank-girl over there well away from me."

"If you behaved yourself, force wouldn't be necessary," the man replied airily, rolling his eyes and gesturing for me to take a seat in the large leather armchair behind the oak desk.

Instead of following his suggestion, I wandered over to the set of tall windows that looked out over the strange island I'd heard him previously refer to as "Plastic Beach". Staring down at the ludicrously pink bay far below, I was surprised to see figures walking together along the shoreline, seemingly carefree and relaxed. A jetty with a gently bobbing sea plane moored to it jutted out into the inky coloured ocean, and then all that stretched beyond was those same black waves as far as the eye could see.

"What is this place?" I asked quietly, eyes jealously tracking after the figures disappearing around the corner of the beach and out of sight, "Where is it?"

"This, my angry little Jock, is my self-made private getaway," Murdoc replied proudly, coming over to the window so that we were surveying the view side by side, "Point Nemo, the spot at the middle of the ocean where everything that's ever been thrown into the sea eventually gets washed up at. Something to do with the tides mnnnghehheh."

"So you build a castle out of trash just so you could... record a new album?" I probed, the random tidbits of information I'd collected so far clicking into place ever so slowly.

"Exactly! Also to escape some pirates I did a dodgy deal with, but that's another story heghheh. Every man needs a palace of his own, so now I've got this one; a floating island of trash, with Murdoc Niccals as King of the Dump!" He explained, getting more positively animated than I'd ever seen before; not that I'd known the corpse-like fellow long.

Shifting in discomfort at the aching rupture in my ribs, I asked faintly, "Why not just record the album where you recorded the other ones?"

"Uhh oh... because I burnt it down for an insurance claim," Murdoc first faltered then replied breezily, waving a dismissive hand as he continued brightly, "Anyway out with the old and all that. The Plastic Beach album is going to blow everything ever released before it out of the water anyway. Russel's AWOL, the original Noodle's very much unable to make it, but as long as I can get that blue-haired halfwit to sing it'll still come out top of the musical history charts. I'm veering away from the previous album's style - going for something bigger and better than ever before, ynnehh?"

_The_ **_original_ ** _Noodle? Who the fuck is that girl standing by the elevator then...? This guy is so fucking unbalanced._

"Well, I'm sure that'd be very interesting to someone who actually listened to your music," I sneered derisively, watching as Murdoc's expression warped from excitedly passionate to cold and hateful as my words sunk like stones into the silence that followed.

"... you really are the most bitter bird I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," He finally replied, eyes narrowed as if scrutinising me.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" I snapped, grinding my teeth as he smirked at my indignant reaction.

"Things didn't work out with you and face-ache, so you went out of your way to not listen to our music? Pathetic."

The green-skinned man sniggered as I gaped in shock, stuttering to try and formulate some sort of response to his assumption. Out of the large window the sea lapped dark and frothing against the pink coastline of Plastic Beach, a dystopian landscape of trash and debris. It truly was the antithesis of paradise; a stinking heap of discarded refuse haphazardly piled together by a man who seemed half genius and half madman.

He'd have to be a hearty mixture of both to have been able to so easily guess my motives behind boycotting his band.

At my silence Murdoc patted my shoulder in a consolatory manner, seemingly placated from my previous slight against Gorillaz after being proved right. Irritated, I finally stalked over to the high backed chair behind the desk, slumping down into it with a loud sigh. Murdoc approached me, the dented tin in hand, and sat on the edge of the desk so that we were directly across from one another. I watched him warily, feeling vulnerable and small in the large leather armchair.

"You're going to have to take the towel off," He said, face set carefully neutral as I bristled.

"In your dreams. You've already seen my tits once today," I snapped, temper still at a boil after being so easily read by a stranger.

"Yes, and it honestly did absolutely nothing for me, love," Murdoc wheezed in exasperation, before sniggering at my answering scowl, "Heh, if you'd just worn the clothes I  _generously_  supplied to you, there wouldn't be a problem."

I crossed my arms over the folds of towel that were wrapped dress-style around me, grinding my teeth as I tried not to take the bait. Murdoc considered me for a moment, hazel eyes flicking over my face and up to my spiky tufts of hair, before he sighed and much to my alarm pulled off his black turtleneck.

"Do you often cut your nose off to spite your face, hmm?" He asked as he handed it to me, then abruptly stood and strode back over to face the window.

I sat in shock for a moment, holding the shirt as if it were a poisonous snake and blinking dumbly after him.

"Hurry up will you? You're bleeding out on my Al Capone chair."

His nasally voice cut through my catatonic state, snapping me into action as I double checked he wasn't looking before slipping the towel down to my waist and yanking his shirt on over the top. A terrible skirt and turtleneck combo, but preferable to sitting bare chested while he stitched me back up. The thick cotton was soft on my skin, loose and comfortable despite smelling overpoweringly of whatever musky cologne he was wearing.

"Thanks ya radge," I said snippily, trying not to feel grateful to the guy who had kidnapped me.

Murdoc turned back around lazily, fixing me with a bored look before he sauntered back over to his seat on the desk in front of me. A large inverted cross necklace hung down his pea-green chest, matching a thick black tattoo on his upper arm that had blurred slightly with age. Spindly and slightly crooked fingers pulled the lid off the First Aid tin, picking out a sterile suture pack and opening the packaging in careful movements. I couldn't help but glance down at my own crooked fingers, never quite the same after what one of DeWitt's thugs had done to them.

I shivered at the unwelcome memory of Sticks, of the cartilage in my finger joints cracking backwards under the pressure of his hands on mine. Then 2D appearing from the darkness to save me, like some earthly angel I'd never truly deserved. The memory made my heart twist as if plunged with a knife, and I flinched as Murdoc glanced up, discoloured gaze hawkish as he watched me curl my hands and tuck them under the hem of the shirt I wore. I caught his eye, feeling my cheeks colour slightly, but he merely grinned and lifted the surgical needle up to the light, the black thread a long dangling tail.

"Okay, show me where it hurts," He said, voice a mock-version of a school nurse that had me snorting out a laugh despite myself.

Shaking my head in disbelief at how quickly he seemed to change moods, I tried not to openly wince as I lifted the borrowed shirt up to reveal the four deep punctures. Two had reopened, the edges of the split skin gaping so that the deep pink and red layers of tissue beneath were clearly visible. My stomach clenched at the sight.

"You must have outdone yourself to get The Boogieman fired up enough to do this," Murdoc drawled, wiping the weeping wounds with saline gently whilst I grit my teeth at the sensation.

Once the two claw marks were once again clean, I watched his green hands as they moved to press against the paleness of my skin. A long-nailed thumb and forefinger pinched the wound closed, then the other hand brought the curved surgical needle to the puckered lips of the laceration and pushed it through.

I flinched at the sharp sting, biting my lip to try and muffle the yelp of pain that threatened to launch itself from my mouth. Murdoc blinked up at me for a moment with a mumbled "sorry", before gently returning to the task at hand.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked quietly as he tied off the first stitch.

Murdoc pulled a face at the question, shaking his head with a sigh as he muttered something along the lines of, "You clearly don't have any friends if you think this is being nice."

"Fuck friends. All my friends leave me."

There was a silence, heavy and prickling with the nearly palpable clicking of the clockwork in his mind as he processed my vehement response. I felt completely justified in my harsh words until an image of Birdie flickered through my mind briefly, and I bit the inside of my lip hard enough to draw blood.

Finally, with his half bloodshot gaze finding mine, the man stitching my skin back together spoke into the quiet.

"That boy, uhh... Lou. The one you said had died... was he your friend?" Murdoc asked softly, genuine concern in his tone for the first time since I'd ever heard him speak.

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, "No, my brother."

It felt wrong somehow, to sum him up in that simple word; he had been so much more than that. My brother and mother, father and friend. Partner in crime, in fights and flights. I wanted him with me, poking fun at Murdoc's bowl-cut fringe and laughing himself to tears at my own terrible buzzcut. I wanted him here even if he were high and this time I'd stay with him while he laughed at nothing and stopped caring about anything.

It felt like the most terrible injustice that I would live to be older than my big brother. That we would one day pass each other in time and the final beloved piece of him would fade from the world.

"I'm sorry for your loss, love," Murdoc said, a green hand reaching out to pat my knee in a way that should have been comforting but instead only managed to make my skin crawl. He wouldn't meet my eye as he added in a murmur, "... and I'm sorry for whatever part The Boogieman had to play in it."

Tears pricked my eyes and I shook my head against the memories flashing across my vision, unwanted and sharp like blades as they sliced across frame by agonising frame.

"I don't forgive you," I whispered, and he nodded slowly as he continued to stitch up my ribcage, as he pretended not to notice when the tears finally fell down my face.

 

\----------------

 

I slept fitfully my first conscious night on the island, all too aware of how deep below the surface of the ocean my cramped bedroom extended. On the floor above mine, maybe even exactly above my nightmare shaken form, lay 2D, and the knowledge of his proximity left me shivering with anxiety and hatred. When sleep finally came, strange and twisted dreams found their way through the chaos of my conflicted mind, conjuring up visions of Lou and James DeWitt, of 2D and Murdoc. All of them snatched at my clothes and hair, each calling out for some separate favour I owed them, or some piece of me I had to give up. They were black clouds the colour of the waves crashing against plastic beach and I ran through the darkness to find myself at the entrance to Tusspot Fairgrounds, bathed dimly silver in the light of a sickle moon. Beyond the steel bars I could see a body lying dead in the dew-wet grass, and thought it was my brother until I pushed through the barricade of mist and shadows to it's side and realised it was Stu it was Stu it was Stu -

The loud clang of the door slamming open jerked me from my dream, sitting up panting as Noodle prowled into the room towards me and dropped a bundle of clothes at my feet. She stood at attention, clearly waiting for some sort of physical response from me as I only managed to heave for air whilst struggling to compose myself. The dream had left me rattled, age-old possessiveness and protective feelings towards 2D being dredged up from wherever I'd buried them at seventeen, heartbroken and clawing at the hole he'd left in my skeletal chest.

The only real part of it had been the impending wrath of DeWitt, who surely would have noticed my brother and I's silence by now. If he got one of his goons to break into our apartment they would come across Lou's abandoned corpse, and in finding me missing they would immediately think I'd skipped town on them. This in itself was enough to warrant severe punishment, but if DeWitt then labelled me as a possible security leak, I would be marked for a very permanent sort of contract termination, with no second chances.

_If I don't get off this island or at least get in contact with him soon, I'm as good as dead._

The beginnings of a mirthless laugh bubbled up in my throat as I imagined trying to explain the events of the past few days to the imposing man, and I realised with a strange sense of peace that whether I made it off the island or not made no difference; I had no interest in living either way.   
                     Eyeing the cyborg girl warily, I resignedly reached out towards the neatly folded pile of clothes at the opposite end of the bed and pulled them closer. A crisply folded scrap of paper sat on top of the black fabric, and I frowned as I smoothed it out and read the brief note written in scratchy block letters.

_RISE AND SHINE SLEEPING BALDY,_  
_LUCKY FOR YOU, 2D ALSO DESCRIBED TO ME HOW GREAT YOU LOOK IN TIGHT JEANS WHILE HE WAS HIGH ON PAIN KILLERS A FEW WEEKS AGO. A WELCOME ALTERNATIVE TO THE SATIN SLIPS?_  
_\- M_

Guessing that  _"M"_  stood for "Murdoc" I pulled a face at the note, crumpling it into a little ball that I flicked across the room. It sailed over the cyborg's petite shoulder and into the hallway, causing the girl to swiftly unholster the rifle strapped across her back and point it at me in one fluid motion.

"Woah, woah, calm down," I yelped, holding my hands up as if in surrender to the easily aggravated sentry, then scowling as I muttered, "Although to be fair, blowing my head off would be a fuckin' gift at this point."

The cyborg Noodle blinked beneath her heavy fringe, silicon eyelids slow-moving over the barely visible dark brown of her eyes. As we stared each other down, the barrel of the gun did not so much as dip, and I felt a blissful calm roll over me. My lips peeled back in a manic grin, the world turned suddenly painless at the delicious thought of the young girl's steady finger squeezing the trigger.

_Do it, go on; make my fucking day._

Yet there was no beautiful and echoing bang of the weapon firing, no moment of frozen ecstasy wherein I flicked from living to dead. I waited and then wilted with a relieved disappointment as she finally lowered the rifle, gesturing stiffly towards the clothing she had brought to me. My hands were visibly trembling as I reached for them, swallowing back a strange urge to sob at being still so horribly alive.

_I want to go home. Someone, **anyone** , take me home to Lou._

True to his word, Murdoc had included a pair of skin-tight black skinny jeans in the clothing supply he'd had ordered to Plastic Beach, which I had to lay down to button up. The red lace bra that matched the underwear he'd included in this latest package I threw into the hallway with a scoff, before pulling on the strappy top he'd clearly acquired when his plan had still involved me seducing 2D. Looking down my more or less flat chest at the gapingly empty plunge neckline was enough to produce a high pitched laugh of anxious disbelief, before the flimsy thing was wrenched from me and flung in the same direction as the bra.  
                          The last time I'd tried to be beautiful and feminine, sexy even, had backfired hard enough to leave a thick and aching scar in my memory; the smell of grass crushing beneath two bodies, then my mouth moving towards his and he said no he said no he said no no no no no -

_Stop. Enough of this._

I pushed my knuckles into my closed eyelids, teeth clenched together hard enough to hurt. Angry at the idea that 2D had managed to remember only the two most body revealing outfits I had ever worn in front of him, I picked Murdoc's black turtleneck off the floor from yesterday and tugged it on with a wince at my tender ribs. The thick black cotton fell to the tops of my thighs, and I breathed a sigh of odd relief.  
                      It wasn't that I was still insecure about my figure the way I had been as a teenager; I had managed to grow out of that. It was more the idea of trying to be something the blue-haired boy had so clearly spelled out for me that I wasn't. Sloane McLeod as I knew her wasn't alluring, nor was she in the realm of someone you could call "beautiful". I was boyish and small, borderline androgynous now that I'd so haphazardly shorn off my long hair, and that was not about to change, no matter what pretty clothes anyone tried to doll me up in.

_You're lying to yourself. You're just too scared that 2D will reject you again to even let him get a good look at you._

The thought intruded on my gentle internal persuasion, and I flinched before pushing it roughly from my mind. Rolling up the overly long sleeves on the borrowed shirt, I turned to face the waiting cyborg, setting my face like stone.

"I'm ready."

She turned and marched off, clearly expecting me to follow, and I had to hurry to catch up to her as she led me to the elevator at the end of the hall. The button to call the lift was pressed by a rigid hand, then the doors were opening and a group of three men were shuffling out past us in mid conversation. I tried not to faint from shock as my suspicions were confirmed; there were other residents here on the B3 floor at plastic beach.

"... and then 2D says to Mudz, ' _foik yew ol' man_ ' and Mudz just pure fucking loses it man," A man was explaining with great vigour, imitating 2D in a way that made him sound almost incomprehensibly cockney and shrill, "Beats the kid round the head with the sound booth microphone so now 2D's saying he won't sing at all."

"Aw fuck man, if 'D don't get his shit together then we recorded that whole set of bars this morning for nuthin'," One of the other men said with a huff, whilst the third just nodded sagely.

I wanted to ask them if they'd been kidnapped too but they took no notice of me as they continued walking down the hallway and into their separate rooms. It sounded like 2D was causing trouble for Murdoc, which must have been why I was getting pulled from my bedroom by his heavily armed lackey. At a loss for what to do, I stepped glumly into the elevator box beside the cyborg girl, already feeling exhausted at even just the thought of being forced into another interaction with 2D.

The lift rose several levels, taking us to the room just below the office I had been watching the view from yesterday. As the doors clunked open I could hear the unmistakable sound of Murdoc's nasally voice, gratingly loud and obnoxious as he argued with someone.

Noodle stepped out, hand hovering over the rifle strapped to her back, and I cautiously followed her, peeking my head around the corner of the lift shaft to see 2D laid sprawled out on the floor, Murdoc standing with one foot heavy on his back to keep him in place. The blue-haired man's nose was swollen and bleeding, red smeared down his quivering lips and across the floor in a violent swipe. My heart lurched involuntarily at the sight.

"- that's it! You're off the track! I'm replacing you," Murdoc was in the middle of ranting as we marched towards the pair of them, leering over his bruised bandmate, "Do you realise how easy it'd be? I've got so many collaborators begging to come out here and sing for Gorillaz that if you keep this up then soon enough you'll be hardly featured on the album whatsoever."

"Good luck selling a Gorillaz record without me singin' on it!" 2D yelled back, lanky arms already raised to cover his head from Murdoc's responding slap.

Noodle quickened her pace and I followed suit right as 2D began flailing his limbs around wildly in an attempt to knock the more heavyset man off him, the only result of which was him accidentally punching Murdoc in the groin.

"FUUUuuucking CUNT!"

I skidded to a halt as the green man bellowed with pain, watching in horror as he responded in kind by dropping his full weight onto an elbow landing square in the small of 2D's back. There was a shrill yelp when he landed, and I grit my teeth at the pained sound.

The two tussled with one another, grunting and hissing as they each tried to land a blow on the other whilst the green-skinned man held 2D in a headlock. Noodle stood silently back, seemingly having no clear protocol to follow when it came to brawls between the two bandmates. Agitation prickled like ants marching across my skin, and I felt panicked with the confusing need to end the violence immediately, despite the fact it was the blue haired man who was losing the fight.

_Oh but you hate him don't you? Don't you, Sloane McLeod?_

In an attempt to make my presence known I cleared my throat loudly, then scowled as they continued to brawl regardless; Murdoc screeched as 2D bit his hand, who then shrieked and let go when Murdoc yanked hard on a fistful of blue hair. I had to bite back a yell of protest, breathing deeply through my nose in an effort to remain calm.

"Boys, boys," I finally managed to drawl, tone dripping with a veneer of nonchalance and bravado, "Although I understand how you  _could_  have thought I was interested in watching you two beat each other to a pulp, I'm sorry to say you're  _very much_  mistaken."

At the sound of my voice they finally broke apart, looking ruffled and sheepish from their position on the floor. Feeling like a scolding schoolteacher, I placed my hands on my hips, glaring down at them.

"Murdoc Niccals, if all you called me up here for was to have an audience for your round of fisticuffs with 2D then I'll have you know I honestly have much more important shit to be doing."

"Mmmnyeah? And what important shit is that?" The green man sneered in response, getting up after digging one final elbow into 2D's ribs.

"Sleeping? Finding a way to escape this island of trash? Getting a message out to the drug lord who will torture and murder me if he thinks I've skipped town on him? Any of those, take your pick," I spat back, lips curling into the bitter pretence of a smile.

Murdoc raised his brows ever so slightly at my last remark, and I cursed myself for revealing something so personal to the conniving man. No doubt it would come back to bite me in some terrible way later, but for the present moment he said nothing.

"Yeah well, too bad I need you on persuasion duty," He finally replied, before nudging the still-cowering 2D with the toe of his boot and adding, "Look, I've even got him all warmed up for you."

Rolling my eyes, I pushed the green man out of the way as I stalked over to the pathetic figure on the floor, crouching down beside him. His shoulder was trembling from fear as I laid a gentle hand on the bony surface, led by the ghost of a tenderness long passed. Maybe it was something to do with last night's dream still clinging like cobwebs in my tired mind, or perhaps seeing him so easily beaten down, but I was all soft and careful as I stroked my fingers unthinkingly along his shoulder blade and down to the bruised small of his back. Hands fuelled by flesh memory instead of mind, acting out of old habits of intimacy I had tried my best to forget.

_We were best friends once, don't you remember?_

He turned his head to look up at me, dark eyes half-lidded as they settled on mine. Despite my violence yesterday, I felt his body settle and sink into relaxed calm beneath my palm, a dazed smile just beginning to pull at the corners of his mouth as each of us watched the other. He was looking at me like some angel sent to save him, all trusting and warm. I set my jaw, wrenching my hand from it's caress across his back and instead grabbing a hold of his scrawny wrist to try to yank him off the floor as I abruptly stood.

"Aghh!" He yelped as I almost pulled his arm from the socket, dragging with my movement but not lifting, "Stoppit! Eeegh! Don't pull that!"

"Fine!" I said snidely, dropping the limb at his request so that his face and torso came thudding heavily back in contact with the floor. Two narrowed black eyes looked up at me reproachfully, squinting further as they landed on the borrowed shirt I wore, and I wrinkled my nose in a return sneer of my own.

"For a second there I fought I'd gotten my old Sloane back," He murmured, and I felt the quiet words slice through me like a blade.

"No," I shook my head, mouth bitter, "Your Sloane died a long, long time ago, alone and calling your name."

Whatever it was that had been reawakened between us for that brief moment on the floor shrivelled and faded back into death as we glared at one another, reconstructing walls high enough that neither of us would ever be able to get past so easily again. He spat out blood-tainted spittle, wiping his mouth with the knuckles of a grazed hand as he laboured to stand. I turned away, previously gentle fingers curling into fists as I blinked back angry tears I didn't quite understand.

"Okay, enough of the weird sad-people-chitchat, it's bloody depressing," Murdoc announced into the silence scornfully, muscling 2D through the door to his left as he drawled, "I've got a masterpiece of an album to record."

I stood for a moment, staring after them with a scowl, before the cyborg girl who had been silently watching the entire series of encounters shoved me roughly after them. I was jostled into what looked like a professional recording studio, with a desk of control and mixing panels in front of a large glass window that looked into the recording booth itself. Murdoc was in the middle of trying to rip 2D's hands from their deathgrip on the doorframe as the blue haired man resolutely refused to enter the small room beyond the glass divide.

"Face-ache I swear to Satan if you don't get in there right now I will lock you in that bunker and sink this entire bleeding island!" Murdoc threatened in a strained hiss as he tugged violently on the other man's legs, before letting go and gesturing to me, "Get him in there or I'll lock you in the bunker  _with him_  when I sink the island."

With an eye roll I marched over to the pair of them, prodding my slim fingers into the sides of 2D's ribs where I knew he was ticklish. He immediately let go with a yelp, arms flying out to fend me off as I lunged towards him for another poke that had him retreating into the confines of the sound booth. I swung the door closed and leant against it, glancing up to see Murdoc shaking his head in what I could only guess was a kind of begrudging respect.

He muttered something that I only caught half of, a snatched fragment of a phrase as he gave a wry laugh, "...like watching him get stabbed by his own sternum."

_Sternum?_

I tried to shoot him a quizzical look, but he was already clicking his fingers excitedly as he moved to the control desk, speaking into an intercom through to 2D in the soundproofed room beyond, "Okay, enough of  _Superrrrrfast Jellyfish_  for today. We're starting  _On_   _Melancholy Hill_ ; did you learn the lyric sheet I gave you?"

As he spoke, a green hand waved me away, and with a scoff at the man's ingratitude I turned to leave, my job done.

"Yes, but..." 2D sullenly began answering into the microphone, and I looked back from the doorway to see his dark eyes burning on mine through the glass that separated us, "... I'll only sing if Sloane stays ta listen."

I felt jolted as he said my name, like I'd touched a live wire briefly the moment that wide and imploring gaze had found me. Murdoc glanced my way sharply as let out a small gasp of surprise, hands twisting in the fabric of the borrowed shirt I wore, and I felt the heavy weight of his hazel eyes as he scrutinised my reaction.

"What do you think then, love?"

At a loss I glanced over to him, leaning back in his swivel chair at the desk so that 2D couldn't hear him through the intercom as he spoke to me with that strange earnestness he very rarely ever seemed to feel. I searched the man's half-turned face blankly, mouth open as if I had an answer yet finding nothing coherent to say within the chaotic turbulence of my thoughts. Instead, I traced my gaze along the dark hair curling ever so slightly where it was longer at the back of his skull, looking soft like feathers as opposed to the greasy mullet it had been yesterday.

My all too empty stomach rumbled, and I broke from my trance.

"I think... I'm hungry," I blurted finally, earning myself a wheezing laugh from Murdoc.

"Ahh righto, I forgot to feed you didn't I?" He sniggered, and I felt my lips pull into a sulky pout.

"I'm not a fuckin'  _pet_ , you radge."

My outraged comment only seemed to amuse him further, and as he laughed I shoved him so that he rolled across to the other end of the sound desk on his wheeled chair, before leaning down to speak into the intercom.

"If you're going to make such a big deal out of it then,  _fine_ , I'll stay," I muttered into the microphone to 2D, glancing up to see him frowning at my harshness. 

Murdoc gestured to Cyborg Noodle as he used his feet to propel his chair back over to me, still grinning with his crooked teeth as he gave an order for her to bring me some breakfast. I watched her disappear silently out of the doorway, plonking myself gracelessly down on the chair that the green-skinned man pulled up to the desk for me with a flourish. We sat side by side, 2D a sullen figure eyeing the two of us from the opposite side of the glass with his eyes slightly narrowed.

There were a series of vocal warmups and calibrating the feedback headphones 2D wore over his messy blue hair, tufts sticking out at odd angles from beneath the band. Despite following his bandmate's directions without verbal complaint, animosity exuded from 2D in heavy prickling waves the likes of which I'd never seen from him before. I couldn't blame him for his clear hatred of Murdoc - I'd just seen him get beaten for wanting a break from singing - but there was clearly more going on here that I was yet to understand.

_What was it Murdoc said yesterday? 2D is being kept here by a whale...?_

Any thoughts of the weird dynamic between the two men dissolved when the cyborg girl returned with a plate of fruit, dropping it onto my lap no differently than how she'd dropped the clothes on my bed this morning. I looked down in wonder at the glistening red strawberries, slices of peach and honeydew melon, and a bunch blue-black grapes. The idea that any of this beautiful and fresh food could even exist at the strange garbage mansion I found myself in was enough to leave me stunned.

"Where...?" I began to ask incredulously, but Murdoc waved a dismissive hand to cut me off.

"I have so many collaborators for the album living here currently, of course I'm going to have food supplies to feed them with," He explained airily, before reaching over and stealing a strawberry from the plate. I watched him pick the leafy head off it, flicking it carelessly away before biting into the plump berry as he continued to fiddle with one of the tuners on the soundboard.

"I didn't take you for a strawberry man," I found myself saying, voice all light and teasing as I held up a piece of light green melon, "I thought this'd be more your style."

Murdoc looked over, before rolling his eyes at me and snatching the fruit slice from my proffered hand. Holding it up to his face, his expression remained comically blank as he asked in a drawling deadpan, "Does it match?"

I laughed and nodded, about to reply when 2D's voice came through the speaker, carefully dull and nonchalant.

"If you two are done making me sick wiv all this flirtin' then can we please get on wiv recording this sodding track?"

I looked up with indignant surprise, mouth open to exclaim a scathing protest when Murdoc's loud and wheezing chuckle interrupted me, the man grinning as he nodded to the singer and pressed "play" on the backing track. I settled sulkily back in my chair, biting viciously into a peach slice whilst shooting 2D a glare.

The music started, a drum beat and bass that was suddenly joined by a repeated refrain of a synthesizer. I stopped glaring, sitting more upright as I watched the blue-haired man let his inky eyes fall closed, leaning closer to the microphone to sing a wordless harmony with the music. Then came the words, and his lips moving to form them as if they were a kiss.

"Up on Melancholy Hill,   
There's a plastic tree,  
Are you here with me?  
Just looking out on the day   
Of another dream."

Frozen, I felt the husky sound of his voice vibrating through the hollowness of my body, the fine hairs standing up across my skin as I stopped breathing to hear him as clearly as possible. As I watched, his eyelids first fluttered then opened, eyes large and impossibly dark as they stared into mine.

"Well you can't get what you want,  
But you can get me,   
So let's set out to sea,  
'Cause you are my medicine  
When you're close to me  
When you're close to me."

His voice cracked slightly as he sang the bittersweet words, and then he was glancing quickly away, stepping back from the microphone with a cough. The music cut, Murdoc leaning forward to ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing into the intercom, but it became white noise as I stared at the man behind the glass partition and stared into the past. A boy with scruffy blue hair holding me to him in a warm crush, murmuring about how I was there, right there safe with him, in someplace by the seaside.

_Here we are, Stu. We made it to that place meant for just you and me, and you're right, you're right; I don't want it anymore._

It ached like a broken bone with cracks that would never truly heal; something deep and rotting in the marrow of my being. I had chosen a life with 2D over Lou back then at the fairgrounds, and now here I was, wish granted yet too twisted and sad now to even be thankful for.

2D pushed open the door to the recording booth, fidgeting nervously with his hands as he stepped out, looking anywhere but my stricken face.

_Do I look like the ghost of someone you left for dead? Did it ever grieve you to walk away without looking back?_

"Those are good lyrics," I said coldly into the silence of it all, my heart trembling in the weak and useless cavern of my chest, "There's only one problem though: I don't care if I can get you.  _I don't want you._  I want Lou back."

His eyes found my own, wide and full of a miserable hurt that only served to light a spark of anger in my chest.

_You don't get to grieve for my brother, 2D. He hated you, he fucking hated you for turning out to be the lowlife womanising scumbag he'd warned me you were. He'd laugh in your face to see you now._

"S-Sloane," 2D stuttered, reaching out as if he were going to grasp me by my shoulders, "I'm so sorry about Lou. I really am."

Before he could touch me I launched the plate of fruit towards his face, the porcelain shattering loudly against the wall beside his head. I leapt to my feet, hands fisted in rage at his worthless words of condolence.

"Shut your lying cunt of a mouth," I spat towards him, voice breaking and rasping over the vile words, "As if your empty apology counts for anything. It doesn't bring my brother back! It doesn't give me the five wasted years of my life trying to get him clean back! It doesn't turn back fucking  _time itself_  so I could give him the naloxone needle before  _you_  had me stolen away! If you want to be sorry for something, 2D, maybe you should be sorry for making a lost and lonely  _seventeen-year-old_  girl feel like she meant something to you, and then walking away like she was nothing at all."

I knew I was ranting but I didn't care, stepping through the splattered pieces of fruit and broken china until we were toe to toe.

"You think you can heal all that hurt and betrayal and  _complete loss of self worth_  by forcing me to come listen to you sing some stupid song about being medicine and melancholy hills?" I demanded, watching him shrink away from my fury, "You truly thought if you batted your eyelashes at me and said I can 'get' you, then of course I'd still want you? Even after all the fucking teenage heartbreak and agonising  _for years_  over how I could have misunderstood so badly as to have thought you wanted me in any way, even as a friend?"

He blinked at me, cheeks flushing red with an embarrassed blush before he opened his mouth, face twisting into a scowl.

"I didn't write the stupid fucking song!" He exclaimed, a hand whipping out to point towards where Murdoc sat watching us both with a smirk, "That smarmy fucker over there did!"

I shrunk back a little, lips parted in surprise, but before I could say anything the incensed man continued.

"Besides! Even if I did write it, I wouldn't be singin' it about  _you._  You're right, Sloane, I didn't want ta fuck you back at the fairgrounds, an' I still don't," 2D sneered, anger twisting him into a horribly warped version of himself that I barely recognised as he added with biting contempt, "Plus, I wouldn't get wiv anyone who was fucking Murdoc in a million years."

Everything went cold and silently prickling with static as I stared at him, face set as if made of stone as his words sunk heavy in the space between us.

"... what the fuck did you just say?"

"Yeahh, please repeat that for me 2D, I'm having trrrrouble hearing today heghheh," Murdoc called from somewhere behind me, tone dangerously light and calm.

His black eyes were heavy-lidded as he looked me square in the face, nose wrinkling with distaste as he reiterated, "You heard me, Sloane; I wouldn't get wiv anyone who had  _so little_ respect fa themselves that _they'd fuck Murdoc Niccals._  Parading around in his clothes like you aways used ta wiv mine, an' flirtin' wiv him while I have'ta watch."

I gaped at him in hurt disbelief, genuinely gobsmacked by how easily he had twisted the truth of what he saw into some hideous nightmare version of the world. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, blinking in shock at his sneering face.

_Who are you? Where did all your warmth go?_

"You moronic piece of shit -" Murdoc began thunderously, but whatever he was about to say next was abruptly cut off by the sound of my fist striking hard and fast into 2D's beautiful yet cruelly cold face.

My knuckles landed against his nose with a stinging crunch, and I pulled the hand back with a hiss of pain as 2D slammed backwards against the wall. My already bruising fingers curled against my chest, I watched numbly as blood began to gush from his nostrils, slick and red down his pale face. Black eyes looking up at me, wide and terrified, then the cyborg girl yanking me away from the sight with such a violent tug on my arm that the world blurred.

"You really are a jealous tosser," I heard Murdoc mutter to 2D as I was dragged bodily from the room, flopping catatonically along like a ragdoll.

The tears didn't come until I was dropped at the doors of the elevator, the cyborg girl marching away to return to her master whilst I sat in a slump of cradled skulls and weak sobs. The elevator arrived with a bright chime, and I crawled on hands and knees into the shuddering and vandalised space like an infant back to the womb, still crying for the ghost of myself I could feel smoothing her hands over my heart; Sloane McLeod at seventeen, telling me it'd be alright, that it had to be alright, that I could survive the callousness of Stuart Pot because she had, and me ignoring her and shaking my head in sadness because I would never have the heart to tell her it'd hurt just as much the second time around.

 


	16. 3.3

I had to get off the island, that much was clear.

It was not until the next day that I felt strong enough to even so much as leave my bed, staring into space and playing the events in the recording studio over and over again inside my head. Between the confusion of how I'd felt stroking my hands over a wounded 2D to the unbearable cruelty of his words, the mere thought of seeing him again left me sick and panicked.

_Murdoc said there were collaborators that were coming to and from the island. That means there has to be a way on and off, all I have to do is find it and then get the fuck out of here._

Pushing myself from my foetal position on the rucked bedspread, I padded barefoot to the doorway and looked out cautiously to check that Noodle wasn't around before making my way over to the clunking elevator. My heart was beating hard in my mouth as I waited for it to trundle down to the  _B3_  floor, pressing myself against the wall out of sight just in case Murdoc or the cyborg girl decided to pay me a visit.

No one exited the lift however, and I stepped inside with a breath of relief. There was new graffiti on the walls, something almost illegible in blue biro. I squinted at it, but could only make out the words  _"forgive me for"_ , the rest slanting into scribble. With a shrug I pressed the button for the ground floor, tapping my feet impatiently as the doors scraped slowly to a close.

When they opened, I was met with the stomach-turning stench of festering garbage, wheezing as I stepped out into the dimly lit foyer of the Plastic Beach house. Overflowing black garbage bags sat in stinking piles against the walls and spilling out rotting refuse across the metal patchwork floor.

Gagging at the smell, I stepped lightly through the waste and over to the large steel door just ahead. A porthole window set in the heavy panel allowed me a glimpse of the heaven-sent beach beyond, out in the fresh open sea air, and I felt my stomach flutter with a strange trepidation as I grabbed a hold of the door handle and wrenched it open.

What air lay waiting for me outside may have been open sea air, but it smelt anything but fresh. The curdling smell of trash prevailed, less strong than in the foyer but nevertheless enough to have me wrinkling my nose as I breathed it in. Looking out across the bright pink beach that gave the island it's name, I was horrified to realise it wasn't a real beach at all, at least not by any rational means.   
                    Stretching out before me wasn't sand, it was shrapnel; pieces of broken plastic and polystyrene, rubber and rags. It shimmered in the sunlight with oil slicks and great sloughs of peeling pink paint that gave the impression of some terrible skin-shedding serpent that had coiled itself around the island.

I cautiously stepped out onto the alien landscape before me, grimacing as my bare foot slid in the muck. Black oil that I guessed was from the careless leakages of ships out at sea oozed between my toes, and I gagged at the sight.

In the distance, right out at the water's edge was the steps onto the wharf I had seen from Murdoc's study a few days ago, yet where there had previously only been a sea plane there was also now a small boat moored and rocking gently with the tide.

_Perfect._

I took another step, only to feel something squish beneath my foot with a terrible squelching sound.

_Do not look down. Don't you dare._

Gritting my teeth, I set off down the beach of trash with my eyes kept determinedly on the boat ahead. With every footfall I tripped and stumbled on the uneven surface, putrid scents wafting towards me until they were gradually replaced by the salty tang of the ocean. The trash underfoot became wet instead of oily, and it was with a jolt that I felt the lapping touch of the tideline just as I reached the beginning of the wooden jetty.

Finally looking down, I laughed aloud to see the foam-lipped rush of the tide bubbling around my feet, just as it did at any beach anywhere else in the world. It was the same gentle tide of places like Eastbourne, yet now tainted, flowing up and onto a bay made of pollution before dragging back into the sea. Less than a meter ahead of me I could see the edge of the island, the sea turning inky black and unfriendly as soon as it passed over the precipice. Shivering, I wondered how deep it was, and what number of faceless creatures lurked down there in the darkness.

_Time to get the fuck out of here._

I strode up the creaking stairs of the wharf, leaving wet footprints behind me as I made my way over to the boat floating out at the end of it. It was white and coated in rust, the cabin on deck empty as I peered through the salt-crusted window. The name on the side proudly read "SS Kelly" in hand-painted and recognisable block writing, scrawled over the top of its previous name as if it had been commandeered rather than purchased.

It was as I crouched to pull at the rope securing the boat in its moorings at the rickety pier that a shadow fell over me, followed by a startlingly familiar nasal drawl.

"Are you entirely aware of how much of a bloody nuisance you are? Hmm?"

I glanced up in surprise from where I'd been examining the intricate series of knots, squinting at the green-skinned figure blotting out the brightness of the Summer sun that lit them from behind. Murdoc's talon-like nails dug into my bony shoulder as he yanked me upright, my feet leaving the wooden boards for a moment with the violent motion before I was plonked back down on the decking, toe to toe with the irritated man.

"Are you entirely aware that you need to trim ya fuckin' nails, you radge cunt?" I retorted, jerking myself from his grip to rub at the sore skin of my shoulder.

Murdoc fixed me with an unamused glare, then stepped back so that we were no longer in such close proximity as he pulled a carton of cigarettes from the back pocket of his black trousers.

"Attempting to sail away on my supply boat is really one of your dumbest ideas yet," He informed me, placing one in his mouth whilst holding out the packet in a wordless offer.

Ignoring his generosity, I felt my lips pull into a guilty grin as I conceded, "It's not even close to being my dumbest, believe me."

My words were met with only an eye roll and a small jiggle of the packet he was holding out, but I shook my head with the same sheepish grin.

"I quit a few years ago," I explained as he made a shrugging gesture and lit the end, dragging the smoke into his lungs with a ragged inhalation.

"Why? You don't exactly seem like the type for self-preservation," He asked dryly, smoke streaming from his nostrils and coiling in the air between us. The scent was immediately one of home, stirring memories both bitter and full of joy until it settled into an ache like an old friend within the space behind my ribs.

"How am I not self-preserving?" I scoffed, before grimacing as I added, "I think at a certain point in my life I just became fed up with addiction."

The green-skinned man considered my words in silence for a moment, staring out over the rough black waves that extended forever onwards toward the horizon. His lips pursed as he took another drag on the cigarette, then his hazel eyes flicked over to meet mine.

"Everyone needs a vice though," He replied simply, then grinned with the cigarette sticking out from between his teeth, "Perfection is for the gods and all their angels; the most boring bunch of wankers I've ever sat at a table with."

I laughed with a genuine smile at his egotistical claim, squinting at him while I tried to figure out if he was serious or not. The man gave me no clues however, as he turned and began sauntering back up the beach towards the doorway set into the pink cliff face, gesturing with a lazy hand for me to follow. For a moment I stared after his retreating figure, considering continuing my plan for escape while his back was turned, but as it dawned on me that I had absolutely no idea how to get back to land from wherever Point Nemo was, I sighed and jogged after him.

_Setting off to sea with no food, no water and no idea how to sail? Murdoc's right: I have no sense of self-preservation after all._

As we entered the dirty, trash-filled foyer, I felt my jaw clench as I was greeted by the sight of the ever-silent Noodle standing waiting by the open elevator. Her emotionless eyes were fixed on me, and it was with a jolt of unease that I noticed the pair of handcuffs dangling from one of her rigid hands. I skidded to a halt, flashing a distrustful glance at Murdoc only to see him standing well back from me, face lit in the dim space by the glowing tip of his fag.

"What the fuck is going on?"

My voice was harsh and demanding despite the jitter of nervous dread beginning to coil inside me. I looked between the two of them, stepping backwards towards the freedom of the beach shimmering brightly behind me.

At my movement the cyborg girl launched suddenly forward, jumping at my unprepared body so that together we fell hard against the metal floor with a loud clang. White noise ran static through my brain as the back of my skull and the hard surface came to a painful collision, the breath knocked out of my lungs as Noodle landed on top of my diaphragm in a straddle. As I gasped for air she sat up enough to flip me onto my back with machine-like movements, and I seethed as I heard the metal click of the handcuffs being secured around my thin wrists.

"Murdoc, you two-faced fucking bastard!" I snarled, twisting and squirming on my stomach under the weight of the girl sitting astride my back.

"Awww I  _am_  sorry about this, love," Murdoc sniggered, walking around me so that his boots came into view, blocking the sight of the beach beyond, "But you've attacked face-ache twice now, and I can't risk you all-out  _killing_  him when I take you in there; I still need him to record more vocals for the album."

"So your first thought was to handcuff me??"

He crouched down so I could look into his face as he replied, a pea-green hand reaching to cup my jaw.

"Well to be fair, my first thought with  _any_  bird is usually about having them handcuffed," He rasped, wheezing at his own humour as he added, "But in your case it took me much longer to feel the need to conjure up that particular mental image hehgheh."

I jerked my face out of his hand, baring my teeth as he grinned and stood, his cyborg doing the same. She yanked me upwards by the back of the shirt, pulling me to stand facing Murdoc, my fingers curling into angry fists where they were fastened behind my back. I struggled, viciously wrenching against the steel cuffs in the vain hopes of being able to slip one of my hands free, the acidic taste of the beginnings of panic flooding my mouth.

_The man's sweaty hands encircling my wrists like a vice, slamming them to the ground either side of my head and I couldn't move I couldn't struggle free and no one was coming to save me -_

The memory rose unbidden, a visceral flash that turned my blood to ice as I continued to jerk and squirm in my bonds. The man of the present who stood before me was ignorant of my growing agitation, pausing with his fingers stroking his pointy chin and gaze half-lidded as it wandered down my body for a moment before flicking back up to meet mine.

"You know, I think this might be my favourite version of you I've encountered yet, Sloane," He mused, then grinned wide as he stepped closer, his cigarette-scented breath tickling against my ear as he whispered, "You're not quite so terrifying when you're rendered so helpless."

_No no no no no no no no -_

I shrunk away from him, every cell in my body pulsing with the instincts of the past as I felt bile crawl its way hotly up my throat, then the world went to static and I was slamming my head into his face hard enough to see stars.

Murdoc reeled back with a wordless shout of pain, holding his bulging nose with both hands as I dazedly swayed on the spot, my forehead aching from the impact. In a kind of distant horror I realised what I'd done, watching as Murdoc glared at me with eyes narrowed in sudden violent hate, scarlet dripping through the verdant fingers he held over his damaged nose.

"I'm sorry, Murdoc I'm so sorry-" I began to apologise in a stumbling rush, before choking on the rambling words as the man raised his hand, stepping towards me in a lunge I was sure would end in a stinging blow.

I flinched away, eyes scrunching closed and unable to raise my arms to shield my face as I waited for the hit that never came. A heartbeat passed, and then I allowed my eyelids to cautiously flutter open, confusion blooming to blot out my fear.

Murdoc stood less than an arms length away, frozen with his hand still raised yet seemingly unable to follow through with the slap. Blood was smeared across his open palm, beautifully red against the green. Heart beating hard and fast, I dared to look at his face only to find he no longer looked angry at all, his expression instead flickering with an emotion I couldn't name, gone too quickly for me to fully comprehend whatever it was that had made him stop. Lowering his hand, the man's hazel eyes slid away from my questioning gaze as he wordlessly brushed past me.

I turned, looking after him perplexedly as he stabbed at the elevator "down" button with a sharp-nailed thumb, refusing to look at neither me nor his cyborg as he waited for the doors to open. He strode inside, shoulders hunched as he clicked his fingers for Noodle to follow, dragging me dazedly along with her.

No one spoke on the ride down to the floor  _B2_ , the clunking and rattling of the lift the only sound in the otherwise echoing silence. Guilt chewed at my insides, though as to why exactly I wasn't sure. My hands continued to twist agitatedly in their restraints, the delicate skin of my wrists beginning to rub raw against the unyielding metal.

There was a soft chime, and doors scraped open to reveal the sprawling mess of 2D's bedroom, the man who lived there cowering on his bed against the far wall, face white with fear. For a dizzy moment I thought he was looking so terrified because of me, but then I realised his attention was on the porthole window that looked out into the inky depths of the ocean. As I watched, something moved out there in the darkness, although what exactly it was I couldn't be sure.

"Just as promised, face-ache!" Murdoc announced cheerily, all hints of his strangely withdrawn mood previous now missing as he shoved me hard enough to send me stumbling several steps into the room beyond, "Since you're  _so keen_  to stay in here instead of coming up to the recording studio, you now get to enjoy your favourrrrite friend's company heghheh. Have fun you two!"

2D looked over in surprise, before his black gaze fell on me standing off-balance and unsettled across the room.

"What the fuck is she doing back in here?" He exclaimed, scrambling into the corner of his bed nook and looking at me with narrowed eyes, "Go on, sod off. Sod off!"

"Sod off? What are you, an old Northerner man?" I snapped in response as the doors clanged shut behind me, short temper made considerably shorter by my handcuffed condition.

"Awright, how's this then:  _fuck off_ ," he sneered back, hugging his knees to himself.

Taken aback by the venom with which he said the words, I frowned, turning away with a snide retort of, "Yeah I wish I could, it'd be better than being trapped in a room with _you,_ 2D."

_We've both become so bitter, so unable to be anything but malcontent. I can't even look at him without all this useless spiteful poison._

"You used to call me 'Stu'," the boy muttered when my back was turned, and it took all my willpower not to lunge at him as everything for a moment flashed hot and red and angry.

I couldn't bring myself to look back at him as my lips parted to reply, quivering with the terrible sadness of it all. I could feel the weight of his dark eyes burning against the back of my skull, could feel the miserable courage I needed to respond wilting under that gaze.

"You're not him. You're not the boy I remember."

A silence settled over the room, the two of us at a stalemate from which together there was no further we could go. Still fidgeting anxiously in the handcuffs, I stalked over to the corner furthest from the blue-haired man and awkwardly set about the task of sinking to a seated position on the messy floor without the use of my arms. I carelessly kicked his dirty laundry aside to clear a space, then slid down against the wall until I was settled back against it, my legs drawn up to my chest.

I raised my head to sneak a glance at 2D, only to jolt in surprise as I was instead met with the disturbing sight of a large eye staring back at me through the circular window near his head. I froze, not daring to move so much as an inch under the piercing gaze of whatever creature it was which had trapped me in it's sights.

"2D..." I whispered, lips barely moving as I maintained the horrific eye-contact.

"What? What the fuck do you want from me?" He snapped, his head jerking up to look at me in my peripheral before I watched with out of focus vision as he too went rigid, voice a choked whisper as he asked, "That fing... that big fish... is it back?"

The large murky eye finally released me from it's terrifying hold to scan around the rest of the room, then dipped from view. I breathed a sigh of relief, before narrowing my eyes at 2D where he sat cowering against the wall above his bed. My perplexed state suddenly snapped into clarity as I realised there was only one thing the eye could have belonged to.

"There's a whale out there? That's the whale Murdoc was talking about, the one that's keeping you here?" I demanded, the beginnings of a wry smile pulling at my lips.

"Yes! It's always out there tryin' ta watch me, lickin' it's lips at the thought of eatin' me whole," He rambled, trembling in pure terror.

"Whales don't lick their lips you daft radge," I scoffed, laughing as he fixed me with a reproachful look, "I can't believe you've been too scared of a big gentle marine mammal to have escaped this place already."

"Gentle?? GENTLE? That fing is pure evil!" 2D protested in a shrill yelp that only made me smirk wider. Visibly trying to deepen his voice, he gave me a sour grimace as he continued, "Murdoc's got it paid ta watch me. If I even try ta leg it, it immediately comes fa me wiv it's big snapping jaws."

I shook my head, snorting derisively at his phobia-induced paranoia whilst he fumed on the other side of the room.

"I'm serious, Sloane!"

"You're pathetic, 2D!" I retorted, mimicking his exasperated whine.

At my callousness he lapsed back into sullen silence, sniffing as he looked away from my corner of the room. I watched the way he fiddled nervously with his fingers, twiddling them together and around one another again and again as he shifted in his hidden position from the whale. Locks of blue hair fell messy into his eyes, and he agitatedly flicked them away, nibbling on his lip with gap-filled teeth. I could feel pity bubbling up inside of me, and I savagely crushed it, trying my best to instead regard the anxious man with contempt.

_It's his fault you're even here; his selfishness. He deserves to suffer._

Angry, I shifted in my restraints, wrists aching as I eyed 2D. He was rubbing his temples, brow furrowed and eyes closed to the flickering fluorescent lights above. Without his knowledge of my gaze, I let my eyes wander over the bruised surface of his face, tracing the line of his jaw and then dipping down to the scrawny lengths of his bare arms. There were deep purple circles around each of his eyes, marking how sleepless his nights must have been since coming to the island, and it was with guilt that I noticed the crusting of dried blood still under his nose from the punch I'd given him yesterday.

"Why are we here?" I asked into our silence, curiosity getting the better of me. I didn't know if I was asking for an explanation of why we were both at the island or why we had ended up so bitterly hating one another, but nevertheless I needed to finally hear his version of events, to know exactly how all this mess had come to be.

"Because Murdoc is an egomaniac who couldn't handle me not wantin' ta be on another album," 2D replied in a tired sigh, hugging his knees to his chest and staring off into space, "I was halfway across the other side of the soddin' world, and he still managed ta find me. Or at least that 'Boogieman' fing did; gassed me unconscious an' then delivered me straight ta Murdoc on this stinkin' hunk of trash."

I blinked, surprised that he'd been abducted just as I had, before narrowing my eyes as he continued to speak.

"We're both prisoners here, Sloane, although I dunno how Murdoc got it in his head ta have you brought here. I know I used ta talk about you back at Kong, but that was so long ago, he shouldn't have remembered."

Grinding my teeth, my reply tasted bitter as it rolled from my tongue, "Oh I'm sure he wouldn't have remembered, if it hadn't been for you being a whingeing little cunt."

"What?" He breathed, staring at me in surprise at my suddenly violent response. I felt the irrational anger beginning to coil rancid in my gut as I watched him play innocent.

"Calling out my name in your sleep? Whining loud enough so that Murdoc could hear and get the lunatic notion in his head that you missed me?" I spat, face twisting into a snarl, "What a sick joke that would be."

2D glanced down, hair falling in blue tufts to obscure his black eyes for a moment as he went completely still. When he answered it was in a murmur, a sound scarcely above a whisper yet loud in the silence that sat between us.

"I did miss you, I still do."

His words were quietly brave, and I felt them settle heavy against my heart as he looked up finally, half-lidded black eyes finding my widening grey ones. The words mattered, they mattered too much, and I found myself swallowing hard against the sudden lump in my throat as I heard my own voice ring out in reply, cold and hollow.

"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought."

We stared at each other, each sitting there with the ghost of our former selves watching on in horror. I could see them like faint outlines, standing side by side with their hands clasped tightly together. I wanted to reach through the years and pull them both into my arms, to press my lips against each of their disapproving frowns and say I was sorry, I was so fucking sorry for what I had let us become.

The sullen 2D of the present couldn't see them as he slowly let his features twist into a frown, lips trembling slightly as he opened them to speak in a voice raw with pain.

"Why are you bein' like this? I didn't mean ta have you brought here, Sloane, I didn't mean fa any of this ta happen."

"I don't care!" I snapped, cringing when the words cracked and broke as they left my mouth, "Whether you wished it or not, Lou is gone, and nothing you can say will change that."

"Stop that! Stop acting like you're the only one in the world who's ever lost someone."

I felt my lungs constrict, pushing the breath from them in a sharp and angry exhalation.

"Says the man who's never loved anyone enough to consider them a loss in the first place," I spat, leaning forward from the wall to hurl the words across the room at him.

2D flinched, jet black eyes widening as they filled with tears of hurt indignation.

" _I lost Noodle!_ "

I watched them shimmer across his eyelashes and finally fall as he threw the words at me, angry and bitter. Confusion left me silent for a moment, my mind reeling as I tried to comprehend what he had just said.

_The cyborg?_

"You saw Noodle not even twenty minutes ago..." I said slowly, before trailing off as he shook his head vigorously.

"That... that  _fing_  is not my Noodle," He all but hissed, eyes narrowing as he stared off into space, "My Noodle, the  _real_  Noodle, died two years ago."

I leaned back against the wall with an uncomfortable twinge of guilt, recalling 2D once telling me back at the carnival that his bandmate Noodle was like his adopted sister, someone he loved as much as his own flesh and blood.

_Maybe you're not so very different in your suffering after all._

I shoved the thought away, furious at the very idea of it as I swallowed my feeling of guilt.

"What happened?"

2D blinked, a single silvery tear tracking down his pale and bruised cheek as he murmured, "We were filming a music video, an' there was this accident... all this fire everywhere an' then the explosion; she couldn't have survived. Me an' Russel never even found her body. There was nothing ta bury or mourn, just a video of her screaming fa our help as the floating island went down..."

He trailed off, turning his head away so I couldn't look at his face as his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. They wracked his thin form, long arms moving to hug his ribs as they heaved for air. I averted my gaze, unsure how to feel for all the emotions that battled for dominance inside my mind.

"The other Noodle, the one here on the island," I began tentatively, "Who is she then? Why does she exist?"

2D sniffed, angrily scrubbing at his eyes with his knuckles as he wiped away the tears. Settling his face onto his knees so that I couldn't see, he mumbled into them, "That's Murdoc bein' a remorseless bastard. It's his fault Noodle is gone, an' then when he next needs a guitar player he goes an' makes a new one out of scrap parts and DNA. As if she was nuffin' except fa a means to an end. It makes me sick."

I felt something go icy in me, my pity for the blue-haired man before me suddenly shrivelling at his words.

_Hypocrite._

"Well I'm sorry for your loss," I murmured, before my voice hardened, "But it's not the same; your Noodle died in an accident, not from an overdose that could have easily been prevented if you'd just left me the fuck alone."

2D's head snapped up to stare across at me, all the colour draining from his cheeks as he processed my answer, and I realised that I had unknowingly crossed a borderline and into the land beyond it. Between us something had died, an unforgivable impasse finally reached. I could see it in the way his eyelids lowered in disdain, his face closing up like an oyster hiding its pearl to become sharp and slicing. When he opened his mouth, he spoke as if the very act made him sick to do so, and the words fell like hammer blows against me.

"You know what I fink? I fink you know deep down I'm not truly ta blame; otherwise you'd be hating Murdoc just as much as you hate me right now. You're lookin' for a scape-goat an' I'm an easy target 'cause you're still bitter that I wouldn't fuck you."

"Get fucked," I hissed, teeth bared in a snarl.

"I'd love to, by anyone except you," 2D snapped.

"Good, I'd never want to be touched by someone who'll fuck any girl who's willing and then wimps out when it comes down to committing," I bit back savagely, watching his eyes grow wide with shock and hurt.

"Well I'm glad I never committed ta you, Sloane McLeod," 2D whispered, voice rasping as if trying to choke itself past a lump in his throat, "A girl so fucked in the head she'd rather blame me than own up ta the fact that her brother is dead  _because of her."_

Everything was white noise, angry and sad and buzzing forever into the loneliness that sat between us. I tried to breathe but no air would enter my lungs and the terrible wheeze that crawled its way out from between my lips was for a moment the only sound in the underwater room.

_He's right he's right; it's your fault, yours and yours alone you worthless girl, you terrible monster._

Then 2D unfroze, voice almost a yell of horror as he stumbled over himself to speak.

"No I didn't mean that, Sloane I didn't mean that I'm so sorry I didn't mean that-"

"Congratulations," I interrupted, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

"- I'm sorry I'm so so sorry - wait, what do you mean?" He faltered in his shame-filled rush to apologise, squinting at me. I found myself averting my gaze, shifting uncomfortably in the handcuffs I was bound in as I felt his fathomless black eyes pin me down.

"Here was I thinking you could never say anything that'd hurt more than your goodbye back at the fairgrounds," I murmured past the sudden lump in my throat, feeling the humiliating weakness of tears prickle at my eyes, "Yet you've managed to surpass yourself. Congratu-fucking-lations, 2D."

He didn't respond to my barbed remark, watching my face as I tried to bite back a sob. It all hurt too much, agony instead of an ache, a killing blow instead of a scar. We sat worlds apart and years wasted for all the good it had done either of us. I wanted everything I had ever lost back, I wanted to walk into a room and find everyone there and waiting for me; Lou, Birdie, my mother, and Stu. The blue-haired boy from the carnival, smiling up at me in the dark like I was brighter than the moon itself.

_What a useless and bitter thing it is, loving both the living and the dead._

The man sitting in the very corner of his bed to hide from the whale outside was neither smiling at me nor regarding me like the moon. Instead, he eyed me warily, as if at any moment I might escape from my handcuffs and attack him.

Finally, he spoke, voice raspy and morose.

"I only said that because I'm all slow in the head an' I don't fink enough before I open my big dumb mouth. I didn't mean it, Sloane."

"You're not slow," I snapped without thinking, then paused, shocked at my defensive outburst. I looked up and met 2D's equally surprised gaze before I finally managed to finish my sentence, "... you're just easily distracted."

It meant something, those words. A loving instinct still living, a confession of care that for all the years and all my bitterness I had never been quite able to crush. It existed in the way my hands had so gently caressed his bruised and beaten spine yesterday, in the way he still made me want to defend him, to help him to his feet.

"You know what?" He said slowly, rueful as he slowly unfurled from his curled position on the bed, "I don't fink I've heard anyone say that about me fa at least five years."

And the blue-haired man smiled at me, so tentatively it made my heart hurt, and I could only sit there with aching wrists and chest and wanting to take it all back. I didn't want to hurt him, I just wanted to hurt myself.

"Yeah well," I began, trying to brush it off with nonchalance even as my voice began to crack. In horror I realised I was beginning to cry, and I choked on my own sobs as I tried desperately to muffle them, turning my face away.

He moved towards me suddenly, stooping to help lift me to my feet, and my heart slammed hard in my chest, frightened by the sudden contact which I was helpless to escape. The urge to tell him to get his hands off me dissolved as I felt the pressure of his touch, the warmth of his flesh against mine enough to leave me breathless with how much I'd missed the sensation. I stood trembling, legs weak as he wrapped his arms around me, cradling my rigid body to his lanky frame.

"Hey now, it's awright," He was saying but it only made the sobs wrack my thin form even harder. His hands stroked rhythmically along my spine, before one came to cup the back of my head, the other wrapped tight around my spasming ribs.

"It  _is_  my fault," I whispered, tongue rasping with the taste of salt, "If I had been faster or better or  _anything_  at all I could have saved him."

"It's no one's fault, Sloane," 2D murmured against the crown of my skull, his lips brushing the spiky hairs, "It's just a terribly sad fing that happened to a person who didn't deserve it."

"Then why do I feel so broken inside?" I whispered, tears soaking into the fabric of his t-shirt, "Why does it feel like I failed him?"

I heard 2D swallow as he tried to think of what to say, and I buried my face further into his shoulder with shame. There was nothing he could have said that'd make the pain go away. There was no quick fix for any of it. I was falling apart in front of him just like I had when I was younger, only this time I was fully aware of how useless the act truly was.

"You're not broken, you're stronger than ever. Strong enough to strangle good old Stu, right?" He finally said, managing to tease a sheepish smile from me with his light and laughing jibe.

_Not strong enough to admit I missed you though, Stu. Not strong enough for that._

"Come on, let's watch somefink," He continued, rocking me side to side in his arms like a slalom pole, face warm with that wide grin I'd first fallen in love with. I laughed in surprised mirth and wriggled to escape, before standing back from him to return his smile with a feeble tear-stained one of my own.

"The distractible boy arranging a distraction? Sounds infallible," I teased half-heartedly, and he snickered and gave me a gentle shove.

I watched him walk over to a pile of Blu-ray Discs that had been left out of their cases in a messy heap and kneel down to inspect them, my heart thudding hard in my chest. I couldn't place the exact reason for it to be beating so fast, except that it must have had something to do with the blue-haired man; something like being alive. After a few moments shuffling through them he lifted three chosen discs up, held by a long finger poked through each hole like cheese rings.

"Which one?"

"Surprise me."

He flicked two of the discs off his hand, waggling his pointer finger in it's position through the remaining disc's centre circle with a suggestive smirk that had me rolling my eyes. Unfazed, 2D placed it on the Blu-Ray machine's tray and pressed the play button, jumping back onto the bed so that he was lying stretched out on his stomach, attention on the television screen that flickered to life in the corner.

I stood for a moment longer on the opposite side of the room, before he shifted over and absentmindedly patted the space on the bed beside him. I felt my breath hitch, the familiarity of it all like a knife slid between my ribs, and I shook my head at his invitation, choosing instead to sit at the foot of the bed, my back leant against it as I fixed my attention on the film's opening scene.

It turned out to be some low-budget horror film about demonic possession and gore, but I found myself happy for the distraction the cliche plot provided. Throughout the film, 2D sporadically leaned forward to whisper the dialogue in my ear only a moment before the onscreen characters did, putting on a limited range of silly accents for each one that had me laughing in a raspy wheeze despite myself. I couldn't help but wonder how many times he had sat alone in the room and watched the few films he had by himself, and smiled at the thought of him practicing mimicking the dialogue to the cardboard cutout of Spiderman that sat incongruously against the far wall. He'd dressed it up in one of his shirts and had a strange mask hanging over it, a circular smiling face with large staring eyes and a long Pinocchio-style nose. The same face featured on several of the scribbled drawings he had pinned to the walls around the room, and I wrinkled my nose at the thought of how bored he must have been being locked in here alone all this time.   
                       The thought vanished as there was a jump-scare onscreen, and I yelped loudly while he laughed hard enough at my reaction for me to feel the vibration of his chest through the mattress against my shoulders. I made a "hmph" noise in pretend-offence, but smiled as I kept my eyes trained on the screen, cheeks warm.

"You know this doesn't fix things, right?" I asked later, when the credits began to roll on the movie and he got up to eject the disc.

"Well I dunno if  _'Evil Dead'_  ever fixed anyfink," He replied with a dopey grin, exchanging the Blu-Ray disc for a new one, shuffling back to his spot as it began to play, "But this one just might."

As the title reading  _'Let The Right One In'_  flashed up onscreen I flashed him a wry smirk, raising an eyebrow as he snickered at his own wit.

"It just might," I laughed, feeling better than I had in a long time, "It just might."


	17. 3.4

We had left movies behind and moved on to drawing by the time I thought to finally knock on the elevator door, listening to the hollow echoing roll up the empty shaft behind. There was no response, and I sighed and tried again, having to stand sideways so as to pound a restrained fist onto the scratched stainless steel.

"Murdoc ya dumb radge! I need to pee!"

There was no response, and I shuffled uncomfortably as I turned to look over at 2D, who merely shrugged. With no lift button panel within the room, we were both to be trapped in there at the whim of the green-skinned man until he saw fit to come retrieve me. Yet as I sat back down across the floor from 2D scribbling away with a biro, I couldn't help but think that perhaps Murdoc had forgotten about me.

"Does Murdoc usually leave you in here this long?" I asked finally, after another few tortured minutes with my groaning bladder had passed.

"Uhh, I dunno," The blue-haired man replied unhelpfully, looking up from his drawing of what looked like a scribbly picture of himself being devoured by a whale, "He's probably just gotten drunk an' passed out or somefink."

I mused over his words for a moment, fidgeting in the handcuffs while I tried not to think about my increasing need to piss. I almost wanted to defend Murdoc and say he was probably just tied up with something else and surely wasn't drinking at midday, but realised with a jolt that I barely knew the man and therefore shouldn't comment. 2D had known him for years, whereas I was probably just still feeling guilty after headbutting him in the nose earlier that day.

"Well if he doesn't come to get me soon then I'm going to have to piss in the corner over there," I muttered, earning myself a dismayed look from the blue-haired boy.

It was exactly as he opened his mouth to reply that there was a sudden flash, then the lights were out and my vision of him was plunged in to darkness. Panic flickered wildly in the gloom, manacled wrists wrenching violently as I blinked into the sudden nothingness. 2D yelped and then cursed colourfully, and I leant towards the sound of his voice like a guiding light. However when he spoke again, his tone was one of utter hopeless dread.

"Oh... oh fuck... I didn't fink whales could have teef like that."

_Huh?_

I blinked again, realising I could dimly make out his silhouette, his long arm raised to point at something behind me. I let my eyes trail along the wiry length of it and up to his trembling finger, before turning to follow the direction of the gesture.

The porthole window set into the wall above his bed was the only source of faint light, filtering through the surface of the water far above us. My eyes adjusted slowly, realising with a chill that the milky white whale was much more easily visible now that the fluorescent lights from inside didn't set the water outside into stark black contrast. It was doing slow laps around the island, about twenty meters out from 2D's tiny window to the world outside, and I had to wait until the length of it's enormous body had disappeared for a minute before it's head reappeared and I became all too aware of what the blue-haired man was so afraid of.  
                       A row of lengthy sharp teeth were set in it's gaping mouth, the span of which was enough to leave my eyes wide with an irrational and prickling fear.

"It must be some s-sort of sperm whale o-or something," I stuttered, shivering in the growing cold as it disappeared from view once more, "I mean, not all of them have those big bristle brush teeth."

"It's over then! It's all over! We're gonna die down here in the dark wiv the heating turned off an' a monster shark-whale gnawin' on my legs," 2D was declaring, tripping over his own feet as he scrambled to get up. I heard a thud, and smirked as I turned to see the faint outline of him flopped on top of a pile of his own dirty laundry.

He was much too paranoid when it came to the whale that guarded him, however I couldn't help but notice the one thing he was right about; it was getting slowly more and more chilled in the underwater space.

"Wait, Stu, calm down. Do you think the power just shut off or something?" I asked, impatient as I watched him burrow under the smelly clothes like some sort of woodland creature hiding in a pile of Autumn leaves.

"Mmmhmm, happens all the time. Murdoc's not got his electricity hooked up too well, the electrician told me himself," The pile of clothes replied, before 2D's pale face emerged from under a fold of cloth.

"How long until it turns back on?"

He thought hard about his answer, silent for a few moments whilst I tried not to squirm with how much I wanted to use the bathroom. I could see my bladder in my mind's eye, cartoonishly wailing and banging it's fists to be relieved. Around me the air continued to slowly freeze over, my breath starting to appear in puffs of mist in front of me.

"I dunno, I mean, hopefully soon but who knows. It's up ta Murdoc," The blue-haired man finally replied, and I sighed at the useless lack of information.

"Real helpful there, Stu."

"Hey! At least I'm honest. You should be nice ta me, I'm probably the last person you're ever gonna see," He said sulkily, before his mouth moved into a smirk as he added, "Because either you'll freeze ta death in here wiv me, or you'll pee your pants an' die of embarrassment."

I felt my cheeks sting with a flush in the cold air, and I made a sound of outraged indignation which only served to make him snicker.

"First of all, it won't get cold enough in here for us to die, probably just get really sick or something," I began to grouchily complain over the sound of his laughter, "And secondly,  _you_  should be the one dying of embarrassment; you're hiding in a pile of stinky underwear."

"I'm not hidin', I'm hibernating."

"You're cowering in your own filth," I tried to tease, but he answered unfazed.

"Awright, keep tellin' yourself that when you smell of your own piss."

He laughed again as I growled, shuffling on my knees and trying to balance with my hands behind my back as I made my way over to where he peeped out from the laundry. The laughter was cut off in a yelp as I flopped my bodyweight onto his exposed face, smirking as he flailed beneath me.

_Take that you smarmy little-_

2D answered my immaturity with a brilliantly childish attack of his own; taking advantage of my stomach being pressed against his mouth to yank my shirt out of the way and blow an obnoxiously loud raspberry against the exposed skin. I shrieked and clumsily squirmed in an attempt to escape, but without the use of my hands it was nearly impossible.

I felt the same undeniable flutter of panic as before, hating with every fibre of my being the feeling of being so feeble and helpless, but then he was laughing and pulling me into the pile of clothes beside him, my eyes closed against the racing of my heart.

_Breathe, just breathe._

His hands were gentle as he arranged the clothes into a comfortable cocoon around me so that we lay side by side in his odd nest, the clothes providing nice insulation from the frosty air that had turned the same temperature as the sea outside.

"How good is this?" He asked me, and despite the dark I could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice.

"It smells like sweat and dirty hair."

"Pshht, ungrateful."

I laughed at his mock-hurt tone, then groaned and shifted, trying to take as much pressure off my full bladder as possible. Around us everything was quiet for a moment, the dancing light of the sun on the waves above causing the dim glow from the porthole to flicker. When I looked across at him his dark eyes were half-lidded, sleepily tracing the features of my face. There was a rustling as he slipped his hand out into the open, reaching out to stroke the pad of a calloused thumb over the long scab that ran through my eyebrow to the bridge of my nose. It was a butterfly touch, ghosting over the marred skin in gentle wonder, and I watched his face turn somber as he realised what I already had; it would scar awfully.

"Was it The Boogieman?" 2D asked, and I could only look at him miserably as I shook my head.

"Lou."

"Lou?? Fuck, Sloane, did he often do fings like this?" He demanded, cupping my face in his hand when I merely shook my head again, unable to speak. I didn't want to have to say it, I didn't want to taint his memory with the few times he'd been anything less than caring for me. 2D visibly swallowed, gentler as he tried again, "Love, please tell me."

"What would be the point?"

I had wanted my voice to be strong, but instead it came out from between my lips all trembling and broken as we lapsed into silence. I could see Lou's body lying blue on the bed, rising up in a flash of sudden memory that left me shaking, wrenching my wrists against the metal cuffs that held me captive and only managing to breathe when the raw skin there split open in a sharp sting of pain.

2D's hands were laid soft against my own, stilling the agitated movement as he murmured, "The point is that people don't become perfect just because they're gone an' we miss them."

"My brother  _was_  perfect," I snapped, jerking my hands out of his grip, "He threw his entire life away, for me. He begged and stole and sold skag, yeah, but he did it so I could live, so I could finish school and have a chance at something better."

I tried to take a breath but my lungs were constricting as I thought of Lou, prickly haired and prickly tempered as he laughed his way through the grim reality of our life. Lou forever saying the wrong thing, grinning with glee as he managed to get a rise out of either Birdie or I. Lou with his snide remarks and charming smiles, talking too fast and too much but always just to try and make me laugh. My voice shook as I continued.

"He was the only person who stood by me, even when I wouldn't do the same for him. I miss him so much it's like an ache that'll never go away, some awful hole in me that can't be filled because I'll never even get to hear him laugh at his own humour or tell me stupid stories again."

The tears finally welled up in my eyes, wavering as I willed them not to fall. 2D was looking at me sadly, shaking his head while I clenched my jaw to try and keep my teeth from chattering in the chill.

"He was a great guy an' a good brother, but he was also a junkie, Sloane. He lied ta you, he let those men try ta rape you, an' he ended up hurting you both," He said gently, so gently that it made my heart ache instead of making me angry, "You can't keep forcing yourself ta remember him like he was some perfect hero, just like you can't keep tryin' ta make yourself believe I left you back then because I didn't care about you."

I looked away, unable to bear the truth in what he'd said. My tongue was bitter as it searched my mouth for the words, any words, that might make him understand that I knew he was right but could take no more of the conversation.

"Whatever's easiest to live with, I guess, right?"

The words were caustic and mocking, and I could tell he was going to speak again but I never gave him the chance; for the pain in my bladder suddenly spasmed. I gasped, going completely still, before looking back over to him, panic blowing my eyes wide.

"Stu, I'm honestly going to piss myself in a second," I informed him gravely, alarm bells ringing inside my body, "And it's going to be on top of your laundry unless you can find me a bucket or something."

He stared at me dumbly, before a smirk started spreading across his face. I didn't have time for teasing, temper flaring as he delayed.

"NOW STU!"

"Ahh awright! Jeez," He launched into action, fumbling around the place before bringing me back an empty bourbon bottle. I glared at it in horror.

"How am I meant to pee in that?? I don't have a dick!"

"Well that's nice ta know, fank you fa tellin' me," The blue-haired man drawled lazily, his smirk fully fledged now as I gave him a stern look.

"Stuart. My piss. All over your clothes. The whole room smelling like urine. Forever," I said through gritted teeth, finally managing to wipe the smile off his face.

He rushed to retrieve another vessel whilst I wriggled out of the laundry cocoon, trying with my cuffed wrists to pull at my pants while I did so. They however would not come loose, too tight and too awkward to properly grip at with my hands bound behind my back. I sat up, mortified as I realised I couldn't take my pants off on my own.

_I am ready to die now. Please could death come to me right now please._

2D dropped an empty paint can on the floor in front of me, the interior encrusted with dried pink paint that matched the beach high above us, and I looked up at him with my most miserable expression. He raised an eyebrow, and I grimaced, sighing loudly.

"You need to unbutton my pants for me," I said through gritted teeth, unable to meet his eyes.

"Uhh what?"

I sighed, hissing out the air from between my lips as I slowly finger by finger relinquished my grip on my dignity.

"You heard me. Please take off my pants and ravish me Stuart, it's always been a real  _dream_  of mine," I repeated in a sarcastic simper, batting my eyelids.

2D looked as if he might have been suddenly teleported into hell for the look he fixed me with at my request.

"I'm fucking with you Stu."

He almost swooned with relief, wiping imaginary sweat off his brow as he breathed out in a sigh, "Oh fank fuck."

"Now, if you've stopped being a fuckin' egotistical radge can you please unbutton my pants so I can take a piss in this paint pot, please," I said mock-sweetly, giving him a smile that was all piranha teeth as he stayed frozen for another moment before snapping into action.

The boy was clumsy and nervous as he knelt down in front of me in the dark, hands shaking just a little as he reached out to pull my shirt up and out of the way, then placed a tentative hand on the button fastening the top of my jeans. His touch sent a flutter through my stomach despite the feeling of my bladder being about to burst, and I breathed slow and steady to try and keep my cheeks from flushing red as he fumbled to undo it.

"I can never seem ta - oh, there we go," he mumbled awkwardly, jumping as the button suddenly popped open.

I fidgeted with my face heating up as 2D gently pulled down the zippered fly, his fingers ghosting across my lower abdomen. I was thankful for the first time since the power had cut off that it was so dark in the room as he finished unzipping my jeans and pulled quickly away.

"Thank you," I managed to cough out awkwardly, while he continued to kneel in front of me, our faces inches from each other in the darkness.

"No problem,"2D answered, voice slightly uneven before he cleared his throat, "Uh I'll just be over there then, making lots of noise an' not looking."

He stood up, unsteady on his own legs as he stumbled through the mess to the other side of the room, turning on the television to full volume before standing with his forehead resting against the wall.

I couldn't help but smile at his antics as I laboured to stand, pulling my loosened jeans and underwear down as I squatted to sit on the paint pot. Despite how humiliating the whole episode was, my relief as I finally was able to release the tension in my bladder was almost heavenly.

_I've sold drugs for a crime syndicate, been hunted by police, made out with my coworker as a sleight of hand to steal his wallet, flashed Murdoc Niccals my tits, as well as committed a large number of other unmentionable disgraces, but this still has to be my lowest point yet: handcuffed and pissing in an empty paint can while the boy who finds me too grotesque to even touch is standing a few meters away pretending not to listen._

My cheeks were afire as I finished, everything uncomfortable as I stood, yanking my jeans back up as I did so. Unsure of what to do with my paint can full of piss, I used my foot to slide it gently across the floor to the lift, leaving it flush with the steel doors.

"Well that was just about one of the most mortifying experiences in my life," I announced in 2D's ear, having to shout over the volume of the television. He startled, seemingly having been taking a nap whilst leaning against the wall, before turning around to give me a bashful gap-toothed grin.

"It's awright, nothin' ta be embarrassed about," He said gently, ruffling my hair as he added with a smirk, "At least you didn't piss yourself."

I tried my best to give him a dramatic pretend-scowl, but conceded defeat as he reached up to pull each side of my mouth upwards and into a deformed smile that made me burst into surprised laughter.   
                   Jerking my head away from his hands, I started to overbalance backwards, teetering and preparing myself to fall until suddenly his arm curled around my waist to steady me. I leaned back into his touch, looking up into eyes that looked like black holes in the dim lighting.

"Even though it's very calming knowin' you can't hit me, I fink we'll have ta tell Murdoc not ta ever handcuff you again," He mused, slowly dipping his arm so that I began to tip further backwards, snickering as I began to wriggle in his grasp.

"Oh really? Are you sure?" I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes at his laughter at my expense, "Between getting to unzip my pants for me and pretending to drop me on my back I thought you'd be having far too much fun for that."

He pretend-pouted, lifting me back up in a swift movement that left me dizzy, the two of us suddenly nose to nose with my chest pressed to his. My lips parted, eyes flying wide as my heart hiccuped in my chest at his proximity.

"Fanks fa reminding me," he murmured, before leaning to whisper in my ear, "I forgot ta finish the job."

The confusion that bloomed within my mind was short lived as I felt his hand slide it's way between us, smoothing along the top of my thigh and sending a jolt along the length of my body from that one point of warm contact. I shivered, then jumped sheepishly when he merely yanked the zipper of my fly closed then refastened the button of my jeans.

_Get a grip, Sloane McLeod._

2D retracted his hand, studying my face for a moment in the dark before returning back to his easygoing grin. My teeth were chattering from the cold as I stepped out of the circle of his arms, feeling strange after standing so close together. Memories from the past were stirring, resurfacing through the muck and the mire of every thought I'd ever tried to bury within myself. I had to escape, had to leave, because if I didn't get away from him now, I'd soon be right back where I started.

Hopelessly wanting a boy who was incapable of returning my feelings.

"It's fucking freezing in here," 2D swore, rubbing at the exposed skin of his arms as he moved back towards his pile of dirty laundry.

"Jesus wept, you're not getting back in that stinking heap of clothes are you?" I exclaimed, horrified. He merely grinned wide at me before flopping back into the large pile, wriggling around until he was covered once more. Shaking my head, I could only comment with a sigh, "You're so gross."

"I'm not gross, I'm cosy."

I rolled my eyes, making my way over to his unoccupied bed and uncoordinatedly sinking down onto it without the use of my hands, landing with a soft thump. I tried to use my legs to tug his ratty blanket over myself, yet only managed to halfway before I finally gave up, lying only semi-covered and shivering in the freezing dark.

There was a beat, a moment of time where I lay alone listening to his rustling, then something warm settled beside me, pulling the blanket up and tucking it in close around us both. As our shared warmth began to chase away the chill, my teeth slowly ceased clicking together, a warm smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I felt 2D curl me snugly into his side with a long arm.

In silence we sunk into sleep, limbs tangled and growing heavy with the lull of the irresistible dark. It was just as unconsciousness was about to drag me under that I murmured somewhere close to his ear, my smirk turning my voice thick and dripping.

"Hey Stu?"

"Yeah?"

"You smell like dirty laundry."

A mirror of a conversation too removed to mention, yet he knew the next line, laughing in a rasp as he replied.

"Fuck you too, Sloane."

I grinned, teeth against the crook of his neck as we both snickered, falling asleep with all our ghosts finally peaceful as they too put themselves to rest.


	18. 3.5

"Well don't you two look  _cosy,_ hehhghehh."

The voice sliced through the warm folds of sleep I had been cocooned in, dragging me from that blissful nothingness and into the harsh fluorescent light of 2D's underwater bedroom. I blinked , dimly registering that at some point the power must have turned back on as my bleary vision slowly focused on the narrow green face leering over mine.

"Agh!" I gasped involuntarily, voice pitching as I jumped in fright at having Murdoc in such sudden proximity. There was no longer any visible trace of my previous assault to his nose save for a slightly purplish bruise across the crooked bridge, stark against the mossy colour of his skin.

At my reaction to his wake up call, the man cackled heartily, straightening up so that he towered over where 2D and I still lay curled together under the blanket. There was a half-empty bottle in his hand, the unmistakable smell of whisky beginning to permeate the air. I frowned, hating not only that he'd managed to make me shriek so lamely, but also the fact that 2D's cynical guess that Murdoc would have only taken so long to turn the power back on because he was intoxicated had been now proved accurate. I wrinkled my nose at the bottle with the strange sensation of being let down, before slowly extricating myself from beneath 2D's lanky arm. As I sat up on the side of the bed I refused to meet Murdoc's ever-watchful gaze as I stretched, legs hanging over the mattress and arms aching from being restrained backwards for so long.  
                  Beside me the still sleeping blue-haired man yawned, reaching out sleepily for me as he semi-consciously registered my absence. Long fingers gently enclosed themselves around one of my manacled hands, and I shook him off with the pretence of nonchalance as I glared at Murdoc's suggestive smirk.

"I had been worried when the power turned off that you might have frozen down here, but it looks like you two had no trouble finding ways to keep warm," He drawled drunkenly, lazily trailing his gaze along the rumpled bedspread before flashing me a sneer.

I was shaking my head, about to snap a defensive response to his undisguised and contemptuous presumption when I felt 2D move beside me, sitting up even as he responded flatly to Murdoc's remark.

"You were worried? Aw. What a sweet surprise ta know you  _do_  care," He said coldly, his usually lilting voice turned monotone and full of unbridled animosity.

"Care about  _you?_  HAH," Murdoc snorted derisively, rolling his eyes, "I really couldn't care less about  _you,_  2D..."

"Well that makes more sense, since you don't care about anyfink except yourself."

"... it was Sloane I was worried about."

I jolted at the sound of my name, glancing up abruptly to look at Murdoc's face as I felt 2D freeze beside me. Expecting him to be sneering, I felt an unsettling sense of surprise flow through me as I saw nothing ingenuous written across his green features, his face instead already turning blank and unreadable in the sudden silence. As I watched he brought the bottle in his hand up to his lips and tipped it back to take a gulp of the amber coloured liquid inside.

"Me?" I heard my own voice ask incredulously, sitting stunned on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah well," Murdoc sniffed, already waving a dismissive hand as he turned away from us both and began stalking back to the open and waiting elevator, "Only because you're still wearing my jumper, and I wouldn't have wanted to rip it off your frrrrrozen corpse mmheggheh. Now hurry up, 2D, I need my vocalist."

I rolled my eyes at his sniggering, shuffling to stand so I could follow him to the heaven-sent graffitied interior of the lift. I could hear 2D behind me as he grumbled something incomprehensible into the pillow.

"No one would have been in danger of freezing if you hadn't thrown me down here in handcuffs and then taken hours to fix the power when it went out," I huffed, sliding the paint tin full of my pee along and into the elevator with my foot as I added, "This is a present for you, by the way."

The liquid sloshed around violently inside the container as it fetched up against the side of one of his scuffed boots, and I crossed my arms with a sharp-toothed smile as I leant back against the opposite side of the lift box.

"Wha- oh," Murdoc cut himself off as he peered down at the contents of the paint pot, looking back up at me with a slightly nauseated laugh, "You really are the least attractive bird I've ever met."

I continued to give him my most fake-sweet smile as 2D joined us in the elevator, blue hair ruffled with sleep and hands rubbing at his tired eyes. As I watched him he yawned widely, the gold crown of his canine flashing briefly in the flickering light, then he was glancing down at the pee-filled bucket on the floor and wrinkling his nose.

"I dunno what smells worse; Murdoc or that bucket," he muttered sullenly, his mood back to one of petulance now that he was back in the presence of his bandmate, before snickering as he gestured to the bottle in Murdoc's hand, "Although I guess it's the same fing since they're both  _pisspots_."

"Shut up 2D," The green-skinned man snapped, taking a swig from the bottle and narrowing his eyes at us both as he suddenly grinned and added, "At least I'm not a tosspot,  _Tusspot_."

2D fumed, nostrils flaring in outrage as he bit back, "It's  _POT!_  Stuart  _Pot._ "

_Why do these two insist on bickering like children? Jesus wept it's enough to give me a migraine._

Murdoc looked like he was about to respond with further smug jibes towards 2D's surname when I stepped between them both, having to use my voice to intervene with my hands still bound and useless.

"Boys! Boys," I called out in a sharp bark, looking between them both exhaustedly as I continued with my tone light and mocking, "Between two pisspots and a tosspot, all three of you have managed to make this elevator almost unbearable to be in."

2D opened his mouth in protest but I continued regardless, unwilling to listen to any more of their strangely ridiculous attempts to outwit one another.

"Now, if you could kindly unlock these handcuffs, Murdoc, I will happily press the floor button for  _B3_  and you two can continue your very mature discussion once I have gotten off. Until that occurs however, please try to keep your love-hate Big Boy Banter to yourselves."

The blue-haired man flashed me a look of hurt, frowning in confusion as he took in my words, whilst Murdoc merely grinned as if he had just won some kind of contest that I had been unaware they were playing. Suddenly remembering how 2D had confided in me earlier over the green-skinned man's cruelty when bringing him to the island, as well as Murdoc's cold lack of care towards Noodle in constructing a Cyborg version to replace the child as if she'd been nothing more than an instrument in the band, I felt guilt flood through me as I realised I should have taken my friend's side.

_Stu's gonna think I don't care for him any more than I care for Murdoc, and by the look of Murdoc's smile that seems to be what he thinks too._

Looking at the bottle clutched in one of his hands, I still couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt towards 2D's belief in the man's complete and irredeemably evil nature. I thought of him carefully stitching my ribs back together, of him wordlessly lending me his turtleneck and never once demanding to have it back. Murdoc turning to ask me in the recording studio if I would be comfortable staying to hear 2D sing, as well as his fury at the horrible things 2D then said to me later on that day. He had these strange and repeated moments of genuine kindness, interspersed between his bitter condescension and sneering remarks. In my mind's eye all I could see was the terrifying vision of him raising his hand to strike me in retribution for his bloodied nose, then the same hand lowering without a word.

_It doesn't matter how confusing and erratic he is; it only matters that he hurt Stu and he continues to do so without any indication of ever stopping._

I clenched my jaw, grinding my teeth together as the green-skinned man produced a key from  his trouser pocket, holding it up with a taunting smirk but making no move to unlock the manacles from where they rubbed red raw against my wrists.

"What are you waiting for?" I snapped, still irritated at my own conflicting thoughts towards him.

"Say  _'please'_ , heghheh" Murdoc teased and I felt the final scrap of patience within me shred against the abrasive rasp of his voice.

"Unlock these handcuffs  _now_ , you crusty radge cunt; I'm not playing your creepy little game."

There was a moment of silence after my violent outburst that echoed out into the confined space as I stared him down. Then Murdoc blinked, eyes narrowing as 2D began to snicker with vindictive delight. A large hand came to cup the side of my head and tilted me towards the blue-haired man as he gave me a cheeky grin, planting a loud wet kiss on the crown of my head  whilst he continued to laugh at my savagery. With his free hand he reached out and pressed the button for B3, causing the lift doors to finally rattle closed and begin it's shuddering descent to the floor below.

" _Crusty radge cunt_ ," He repeated in between breathy giggles, "You're brilliant, love."

My heart was thudding hard in my chest as I enjoyed his mirth, yet I felt the glowing feeling dissolve as I snuck a glance at Murdoc. He was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, downing the rest of the whisky in large gulps as he watched the two of us. As he drunkenly registered my gaze I watched his hazel eyes narrow slightly, before flicking away.

_I may have just made an enemy of someone that, according to Stu, is borderline sociopathic._

The doors of the elevator jerked open with a soft bing to announce we had reached the floor of my bedroom, and Murdoc wordlessly grabbed my wrists in one of his unusually rough green hands, unlocking the handcuffs with a click. The dried blood that had crusted against where they'd cut into my skin left a dark brownish-red stain along the steel as he yanked the metal cuffs from me, and I bit my lip as I felt the scabs reopen with a sting.  
                     I barely had time to take a breath through the pain before I was shoved from behind, stumbling out and into the corridor beyond. As I turned back to look at them, wrists held out and dripping fresh scarlet onto the floor, Murdoc used his booted foot to send the paint can of piss skidding out after me, the liquid inside sloshing but luckily not spilling as the doors began to close on my view of them.

The last thing I saw was the empty whisky bottle shatter against the wall as Murdoc threw it hard and fast towards 2D's head, missing by only a few inches of drunkenly poor aim. I cried out as shards of glass sprayed from the interior of the lift, stepping forward uselessly as the doors slammed to a close in my face. The clunking of the elevator's ascent to the floors far above echoed through the empty corridor as I stood with aching wrists and a heavy heart, only a bucket of my own piss for company as I realised with dismay just how easy it was to be cruel rather than kind.

\------------------

It was only after emptying the contents of the paint can into one of the  _B3_  floor toilets and standing in a numb daze under the blasting stream of the shower for twenty minutes that I began to reemerge from my stupor.

Eyes closed to the salty seawater flowing over my face, I imagined the pipework hidden in the walls and floors of Plastic Beach that were needed to both bring water to and from the bathroom facilities, trying desperately to distract myself from any other thoughts I would otherwise have had to contend with. The confused feeling of beginning to finally fall back into the same old easy friendship with 2D, only to in turn fall out of Murdoc's favour, had left me feeling small and uncertain, as if at any moment I would misstep in some way. It seemed that any further friendship with Murdoc, if there had ever been any at all to begin with, could never be possible now that 2D and I had managed the beginnings of some sort of reconciliation.

_Surprise, surprise, Sloane McLeod; you cannot have your cake and eat it too._

The thought was bitter, too bitter for me to even try to dissect and understand as I instead shoved it viciously away, agitatedly wrenching the shower taps off and stepping from the wet cubicle dripping salt.  
                      I was a girl dressed in bruises as I towelled myself off, standing shivering in the slow-draining shower puddle that spread out across the grimy tiles. There was green and yellow colouration around the black stitches in my ribcage, and I pressed my knuckles into the healing flesh just to feel the ache of something that wasn't too confusing to comprehend.

Birdie would have known what to do. I closed my eyes against the memory of her gentle hands combing through my hair as she braided it, smiling as I imagined how shocked she'd be to see it's terribly shaven state now. Her doe-like eyes wide, pale fingers splayed over her mouth as she gasped and then laughed, a light and breathy sound that was they only facet of her which wasn't of a kind of beautiful fey-like grace.

_"You look just like Lou now," she'd say, and kiss my forehead, and break my heart as she asked, "Where is he?"_

_Where is he?_

I opened my eyes, feeling them sting with tears as I slammed my knuckles against the stitches, crying out into the emptiness of the bathrooms and hearing only my own voice echo back at me.

"Stop!"

_Stop what? Stop what Sloane?_

I didn't know, standing naked and sobbing wretchedly as my mouth flooded with the acrid taste of panic, bitter like bile as I forced myself to breathe.

"I don't want this," I heard my own pleading voice cry out to the world, the bony knuckles of my fist crushing against my tender wounds the only source of aching clarity in the violence of my own misery, "I don't want this! Please! Someone! Take this from me,  _I don't want it anymore._ "

_Don't want what? To live?_

I didn't, not without Lou. Not without Birdie. It was the amputation of a limb, the removal of a vital organ; even if I could manage to live without them both, what use was it when I would always have to feel the ghost of them in the empty spaces they should have filled? No, it was too unbearable to even consider. If this was what life was to be, all this pain and anguish over the past then my pathetic words were true: I didn't want it.

_What_ **_do_ ** _you want then?_

I had no answer, I had nothing save for the sensation of my own fingers finding the end of the thread that was stitched through one of the claw-marks gouged into my ribs, pinching it between a thumb and forefinger before ripping the length of it from my body. I watched in detached numbness the skin just beginning to seal back together shredded, then gasped in sudden physical torment as the fiery pain of the re-opened wound bit it's way into my awareness.

"Fuck!" I hissed, already red-raw eyes stinging with fresh tears as the self-inflicted injury began to throb agonisingly, blood smearing against the hand I pressed to the lesion.

It had been stupid. It had been rash and stupid.

Cursing my own thoughtlessness, I tugged my clothes violently back on, stumbling out of the shower stall and past the row of sinks to the doorway with my teeth gritted against the repeated aching pangs from every step. My blood soaking through the black of Murdoc's turtleneck was dark and shining wetly under the hallway lights as I limped my way over to the lift, passing a number of empty rooms along the way.

_Slowly more and more people are going to leave, until it's just me and 2D here with the machine girl and her maniac master._

Holding my side with one blood-stained hand, I waited for the elevator, stumbling inside when it arrived and punching the button for the upper-floor study. The lift jerked lazily into motion, creaking as it laboured upwards. Someone had added to the biro scrawl I'd noticed the other day, and I realised distantly that they were either some sort of poetry or lyrics:   
 _Forgive me for what I've become,_  
The sun is gonna save me,   
Put a little love into my lonely soul.  
The slanting scrawl was incredibly hard to read, and I shook my head, unsure I'd even deciphered it properly.

There was a soft bell sound as the lift doors opened, and I forgot the strange script as I peeked out into the room beyond.  
                     There were papers everywhere, the space in a complete disarray that starkly contrasted how I'd seen it last. Murdoc was nowhere to be seen, and I breathed a small sigh of relief as I stepped delicately across the floor, careful not to tread on any of the easily-angered man's paperwork.

_He'll still be in the recording studio with 2D. They're probably beating the shit out of each other and then writing mopey songs about it._

The First Aid tin with the suture packs was in the third drawer of the oaken desk that I checked in, and I snatched it out with my blood-free hand, placing it on the desktop before frowning as I recognised an image amongst the messy piles of scrap paper strewn across its surface. It was a crudely drawn diagram of a tall and hunched creature, wrapped in a black cloak and sporting a gas mask over it's face. I felt my heart lurch in my chest as I stared at the red lenses that had been drawn into the eye sockets of the mask.

The Boogieman.

I shuddered, feeling sick as I tore my eyes from the sight. There was writing down the side of the drawing, and I tilted my head to read Murdoc's unmistakable block writing.

_ GAS DEMON; NO PHYSICAL FORM OTHER THAN THE VAPOUR CONTAINED IN IT'S CLOTHING. _

Beneath the original labelling of the creature were newer looking notes.

_FOUR PUNCTURE MARKS IN SLOANE MCLEOD'S RIBCAGE: MUST HAVE SOME SORT OF CLAWS._   
_SOMETHING UNDER MASK? SHE SAID I LOOKED LIKE IT ? - POSSIBLY JUST BEING A_ _ BITCH. _

I scoffed, momentarily forgetting the throbbing pain in my diaphragm as I picked up the discarded fountain pen he'd been using to write notes, adding to the document in my own scratchy handwriting:

_Probably now blind in it's left eye after Sloane McLeod whipped it's face with a belt buckle. Also, I only said it looked like you because you're both green. Your colouring is actually much easier on the eye than the demon's I will now admit however._

A droplet of blood landed in a shock of red against the crisp white of the paper, and I grimaced. Dropping the pen with a sigh and instead picking up the discarded First Aid tin, I was in the process of locating a suture pack within it's contents when there was a soft "bing" from the elevator.  
                  Head snapping up in guilty surprise, I couldn't help but feel as if I'd been caught red handed - both figuratively and literally - as Murdoc stepped out from between the creaking doors.

He was moving with hunched shoulders, brow furrowed in deep thought as he studied the black note he held between green fingers, a thing only the size of a business card yet being read and re-read as if it contained the secrets of the universe. The cyborg Noodle followed close behind, snapping to attention as she registered my presence before her creator did. The girl lunged in front of Murdoc, her rifle already gripped between small silicon hands and pointed at my head.

I let out a small yelp of fright as I dropped the First Aid tin with a clatter, one arm raising in surrender while the other retained the compression over the seeping wound. Murdoc, still engrossed in the card, walked straight into his cyborg guard and let out a grunt of surprise. As he finally looked up, his eyes narrowed as they landed on me.

"What the bloody hell are you skulking about in here for?" He spat, cold and hateful as he surveyed the scene he'd walked in on. Mismatched eyes looked me up and down scathingly, as if my presence was enough to make him sick, before his gaze froze upon the sight of the blood seeping from between my pallid fingers.

His reaction was almost instantaneous, like watching the man shed skin as he ceased his sneering and instead softened, concern flashing for just a moment across his features. Then it was back to the same old hardened derision I was used to as he rolled his eyes at my pitiful state.

"Couldn't go for more than a moment without needlessly endangering yourself, hmmm?" He jeered, brushing the barrel of Cyborg Noodle's gun out of his way as he sauntered over to me.

"I..." I began to protest, only to find myself choking on the lie. He was right: I had done this to myself.

Murdoc fixed me with a bored look as he tossed the sleek black card onto the desktop and resignedly picked up a sterile packet of sutures from the spilled contents of the First Aid tin.

"Come on then, you bloody pest," He drawled, unwrapping the surgical needle and threading, "Show me where it hurts."

I smiled weakly even as he finally grinned, a reenactment of my first day on the island. A strange moment of amity despite the all the times I had slighted him since waking up that morning; starting with the headbutt to the nose and ending with dripping blood over his paperwork. I couldn't help but silently hope he didn't notice my additional notes to his badly drawn Boogieman diagram either as I stalled revealing my act of self-harm, gesturing instead to the black note he had left on the table.

"What's that? Some sort of goth calling-card?"

His gaze flicked to where I was pointing, shaking his head with a short half-hearted laugh.

"Something like that, but more like blackmail."

I raised my brows, intrigued, but he seemingly would elaborate no further, gesturing impatiently with the needle towards the blood staining my front. With a resigned sigh I lifted the hem of the borrowed shirt to reveal the raw and angry tear in my skin. Murdoc sucked in a breath as he inspected the fresh laceration, before narrowing his eyes and looking back up to my face, voice stern as he asked, "Why did you do this?"

I wanted to tell him I hadn't, to be defensive and snide and call him a radge but instead I could only stare at him in mortified horror as tears began to well up across my vision. I blinked furiously, frowning and looking away, but the panicked feeling from before was returning and I was seemingly too weak to stem the tide as the salty liquid spilled down my flushing cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, wiping the tears with already bloodied hands and then sighing in exasperation as I realised I had smeared my face with red, "Just ignore me please."

"That would be exceedingly difficult," Murdoc answered dryly, raising a brow at my seemingly unprovoked display of misery, "Seeing as you're currently sitting at my desk with blood, snot, and tears all over your odd little face, balding in your early twenties, and bleeding profusely from the chest."

I scowled, feeling my fists clench as I snapped, "Well just try!"

He leaned back for a moment, watching me with that all-too shrewd gaze and scratching a long nail through the short stubble along his jaw. Uncomfortably trapped by the weight of his scrutiny, I had to hide my face in my dirty palms as the tears continued to stream from beneath the closed lids of my eyes.

_Stop it, just stop it you pathetic -_

My inner voice of violent self-loathing was abruptly cut off as I felt fingers close around my wrists, gently pulling my hands from my face so that I found myself instead looking down at Murdoc from where he was now kneeled in front of me, face open and callousness seemingly forgotten. Up this close I could see the scattered freckles along the tops of each of his green cheeks, the white scar on his upper lip from a a punch that had split it long ago. He shook my limp arms lightly in his grip, searching my face as if looking for any reaction, any at all, apart from despair.

"Sloane, even heartless bastards like me can't sit back and watch pretty birds cry," He said gently, giving me a tired half-smile as he released my wrists, "Just tell me what's going on, hmm?"

I sniffed and tried wipe the tears and blood off my face whilst he turned to grab the suture needle off the desk, gesturing for me to lift the shirt once more as he leaned against my knees brace himself. Green hand pressing the damaged skin back together and then the needle point indenting my flesh as I finally opened my mouth to answer.

"I'm tired of missing people."

He didn't look up as he slid the sharp hook through my skin, replying while I tried not to hiss at the sting, "Missing your brother?"

"Yes," I nodded, looking out through the large set of windows to the indigo night sky beyond, "But everyone else too. Everyone in the whole world, or maybe just Birdie."

"I suppose, when it's someone special, they can feel like one and the same," Murdoc said distantly as he tied off the first stitch, before coughing uncomfortably and adding quickly, "I mean, only for emotional sorts like you. Or face-ache. Doubtless, he'll think the bloody world's ended if  _I_  ever go missing heghehh."

I rolled my eyes at his sly dig, trying not to yelp when the needle pierced my skin once more. He waved his hand in a silent encouragement for me to continue, and just for the relief of speaking the words, I kept rambling as he sewed me back together.

"Birdie was my brother's girlfriend from when they were thirteen; she practically raised me alongside him, like a sister and a mum rolled into one," I explained, trying to help him to understand why it was I couldn't bear to miss her, "But she couldn't handle watching Lou destroy himself, and when she left she didn't leave me any way to contact her. So I haven't. Not in five years."

I could feel fresh tears pricking at my eyes but I blinked them back, breathing deeply as I finished my story.

"So she's just as lost as Lou is to me now; I doubt I'll ever see her again for as long as I live."

Murdoc looked pensive for a moment, eyes still on the black threads in my skin as he tied off the final stitch, snipping the remaining length carefully short so I could never pull it again. When his hazel gaze finally met mine it was in a slight squint, as if he was lost so deeply in thought as to have trouble looking through it all to me. For a moment it seemed he might say something, lips parting slightly, before he abruptly stood and turned away.

"Try not to pop those stitches again, Sloane," The green-skinned man said airily, his back to me as he packed away the spilled First Aid tin, "I'm running out of sutures."

I blinked, surprised, before slowly getting up from the chair with a murmured, "I won't. Thank you."

He grunted an acknowledgement, and I hastily sidled out from behind the desk, almost feeling the need to tiptoe as I made my way past the armed cyborg girl and over to the elevator. My skin was prickling with an anxious discomfort I couldn't quite place, relief flooding through me as soon as I heard the soft tone of the bell that signalled the lift-box's arrival.  
                    Leaping inside and pressing the button for the  _B3_  floor, I dared one last glance at Murdoc through the closing doors. He was standing staring down at a crisp white sheet of paper in his hand, a single droplet of blood visible from where it had soaked through to the back. As I watched, he glanced up, expression unreadable as the lift closed and I began my descent towards yet another sleepless night in the bedroom underwater.

\------------------

2D was in a foul mood when I went to visit him the next morning, stepping lightly from the elevator with a fresh orange that I'd stolen off the communal breakfast table sitting heavy in each hand. The blue-haired man was lying facedown on his bed, almost entirely nude save for a red-trimmed pair of tattered tighty-whiteys that looked like they should have been thrown out and replaced years ago.

"Sod off!" He shouted into his pillow as the bing of the elevator announced my arrival, his voice muffled as he grumbled, "Swannin' around finking you can force me ta sing but won't even let me help on the music..."

"Stu," I interrupted, hearing the lift doors close behind me as I hurdled the laundry he had scattered across the floor to make my way over to where he lay sulking.

At the sound of my voice he abruptly rolled onto his side, flashing me a sheepish grin as he realised after a momentary delay that I was in fact  _not_  Murdoc Niccals. I felt my stomach drop as I realised he had slight bruising around his right eye and the bridge of his nose, the skin the maroon of a fresh bruise, not yet faded to black. His shoulder was grazed, as if he had been pushed against a wall, but otherwise he was only marked with old bruises, yellowing as they healed. I tried not to let my concern show and dampen his spirits as he sat up happily, smile like sunshine as he tried to smooth his messy bed-head into something just a little more groomed.

_He must have had an altercation with Murdoc when they were recording last night._

"Well 'ello then."

"Hey," I replied, forcing myself to flash him an easygoing grin of my own as I lightly tossed one of the oranges to him, before taking a seat on one of the larger piles of laundry just adjacent the bed.

_Don't sit too close. No more cuddling in bed and re-confusing yourself with anything except for platonic thoughts._

2D first caught and then dropped the fruit with a goofy yelp of surprise, his cheeks colouring as I leaned over and grabbed it from where it had rolled across the floor. He was a gorgeous shade of pink when I primly placed the orange back into his hands, and I couldn't help but smirk at how adorable he looked when he got flustered. It felt like re-meeting my dopey, self-conscious Stu from back at the fairgrounds, wreaking havoc on  _The Switchback_  ride by telling the passengers they'd get decapitated over the microphone.

_Even back then though, he loved that mask of indifference; that disaffected coolness that has only grown make him all bitter and sad now._

I frowned at the thought, using my thumb to break into the thick rind of the orange and begin to peel it away. The sweet scent of citrus rose up to greet me, and if I closed my eyes I could remember the way the blue-haired boy's skin had used to smell of it. Bourbon, orange-scented soap, and slightly dirty hair; then later, crushed grass and sex and sweat. It seemed strange now, how much I had been willing to give up for the chance to sleep by his side. For him to breathe me in the way I had him; deep into his lungs as an oxygen, taken by his blood down the beautifully twisting pathways of the veins in his body until finally reaching his heart.

_Darling, don't you see? I get there somehow in the end._

The 2D of the present was watching me in wonder when I flicked my gaze up at him, causing my heart to beat hard in my chest. I stopped mid-peel, fixing him with a quizzical look.

"What?"

"Uhh n-nuffink," He stuttered, before looking bashful and holding up his own unpeeled orange as he explained, "I dunno how ta peel these fings is all. You make it look so easy."

I smiled at him warmly, quickly removing the final bit of orange rind before holding it out to him. He looked unsure for a moment, but after a second's hesitation he gingerly took the unpeeled fruit from my hand, swapping it for his entirely intact one.

"Fanks, Sloane," 2D murmured, splitting the segmented sphere in two with his long fingers, fragrant juices running down his hands in golden drips. I couldn't help but watch as he quickly moved to catch them on the pink of his tongue, licking the stickiness from his palms whilst a shiver ran down my spine.

"No problem; my mum taught me how to do this," I said into the quiet, forcing my gaze back down to the orange in my hands as I began to unravel it's rind, "We lived on the housing estate growing up, but about two streets away there was this orange tree that grew in the front garden of someone's house. Me and Lou used to go around there and steal as many as we could carry to bring home to Mum. When we were really young she would peel them for us, with Lou and I watching her hands at the kitchen table, but one day she stopped; too high too often I suppose. It's been a long time, but I've never forgotten her hands and the way they unwound the rind in one long peel."

2D sighed, swallowing a segment of orange before murmuring, "That's so sad, I'm really sorry Sloane."

I shook my head at his pity, laughing as I realised he'd misunderstood my story.

"Don't be sorry, it's not a sad thing," I said, mouth curving into a smile as he looked confused, "It's one of the few positive things she ever taught me, and the only happy memory I have of the three of us together; Lou, my mum, and me."

He nodded slowly, looking like he was still confused but not wanting to push it any further. I didn't feel disappointed as I continued silently peeling the fruit, not sure I fully understood my own feelings either. Perhaps it was the knowledge that it would be another seven years before my mother could be released from prison after her sentencing for supply of Grade A illicit drugs, and that was only if she got good behaviour. Or maybe it was the knowledge, the bitter knowledge, that there would never be the three of us together again.

No chance for recovery, no way for revival.

Wanting a distraction, I placed a segment of orange into my mouth, chewing slowly as I surveyed the room. There were sheets of paper on the floor covered with new drawings the boy had done and messily drawn music sheets, all scattered beside an instantly recognisable instrument.

"I haven't seen one of those in ages," I laughed into the silence, pointing to the synthesizer with a hand sticky from orange juices, adding teasingly, "Been writing some of your own songs since Murdoc won't let you help with his?"

2D responded by shoving the entirety of the remaining orange into his mouth, his cheeks ballooning out comically as he gestured dismissively with his hands. I laughed, shaking my head at his antics before standing and stepping carefully through the chaotic mess to take a look at his work.

With his mouth still full, the blue-haired man emitted a small squeak of panic, jumping up to stop me just as I neared the synthesizer. I felt his arms wrap warm around my waist from behind, snatching me backwards as I heard my own voice call out his name in a giggle.

"Stu!"

"MMM?" He answered, still incomprehensible through his mouthful of orange as he held me tightly against him, my feet hovering several inches off the floor as I wriggled in his grasp.

"Let me see!" I exclaimed, still laughing lightly as I felt the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with the strain of holding me still when I continued to squirm to try and get away. Heat rose to my cheeks as I froze, suddenly hyper-aware of the feeling of his body against mine.

Finally swallowing, 2D answered in a self-conscious rush, "You can't! Not yet. It's not finished."

"Can't I see what you've done so far?" I pressed, both relieved and disappointed when he released me gently back to the ground. I spun so that we were facing, our bodies still close enough to feel the heat off his bare skin as I added with my most charming grin, "Please?"

"Nah, it's gotta be perfect when you see it," he said, black gaze heavy on mine as he shifted slightly forward, my pulse kicking into overdrive as I looked up into his pale face.

"Why?"

"Because it's a song I'm writing fa you," 2D murmured, then flushed as he tripped over his tongue to explain in a ramble, "Since I was such a wanker over the  _On Melancholy Hill_  song, I fought I... Well I fought I could maybe write a song that wouldn't come out all wrong when I sang it fa you. So it has ta be perfect. It sounds a bit stupid now that I'm saying it out loud-"

"No," I interrupted, smiling as I reached up to place my hand over his mouth, "It sounds lovely... Thank you."

He went still under my touch, closing his eyes in apparent relief at my words before he reached up to gently pull my hand from his lips, kissing the backs of my knuckles. My breath hitched as his mouth brushed my skin, soft against the crooked fingers, before he pulled away, smirking as if he had just suddenly remembered a fantastic joke.

"That went down much better than last time; you didn't even punch me in the face or nuffink."

We laughed together, my hand still held in his and my cheeks colouring further as I remembered how I had socked him straight in the nose only a couple of days ago. I felt his palm press against my waist, distracting me from my thoughts with the strangely exciting idea that he was about to waltz with me before he instead spun me in a dizzying twirl away from the confidential draft music sheets, snickering when I gave him a pretend-pout at the deceit.

"Don't celebrate just yet," I warned, crossing my arms as I faced him off, "I could strike at any time."

The blue-haired man stood across from me, wiry chest bare and hands mockingly raised as if to fend me off. I let my gaze trace across his bruised skin, the sparse dark hair at the centre of his chest and the trail that led down from his belly button and under the waistband of his Y-fronts. His legs were skinny and pale enough to have never seen the sun, but I wanted to run my fingers along them, to feel the grooves in the graze on one of his knees and kneel down to kiss it better.

_Sloane McLeod, get a grip._

I was still trying to halt my strange train-of-thought when 2D stepped closer to where he'd spun me over to, once again grabbing my hands and grinning as I tried to yank them away defensively.

"Come on, you don't wanna punch me," He teased, and I sighed and leaned into him so I could feel the vibration of his laugh through his chest as he continued in a sarcastic drawl, "I'm too  _cute_  an'  _loveable_  to punch."

"That's not the descriptive terms I'd use," I muttered dryly, scowling over his shoulder in concern.

_He used to have at least a little more self-esteem than this, in regards to his looks at least. He was always convinced he was slow in the head, but he at least knew he looked good. He's not even confident in sharing his music anymore, as if he somehow thinks it's lesser to Murdoc's work._

The idea that he now saw nothing in himself at all was enough to make my heart ache as I leaned back, giving him a crooked smile as I pulled his arms around jerkily in a kind of disjointed dance, swaying him side to side in the hopes that he'd soon break out of his self deprecative mood. He frowned for only a moment, before I performed a dorky one-sided shimmy towards him and finally managed to make him smile.

_Why does it matter so much to you, whether he's feeling happy or not?_

2D was mumbling some sort song under his breath as he interlinked our fingers, sliding his other hand to the small of my back, and the feeling of his black eyes on mine was still the most beautiful thing I had never managed to understand. We were stepping back and forth and it was stupid and clumsy but we were both grinning with the joy of it, the simple joy of dancing to his humming within the fragile sanctuary of our friendship. All the pieces of our former selves seemed to return only when we were touching, and I didn't want to let go, didn't want to have him leave again and let my only happiness be taken with him.

_What_ **_do_ ** _you want then?_

What did I want? I wanted what I always had; to press myself against him until we shared the same skin, to meet his mouth with mine and let him feel the heat of that flame I'd always kept burning for him, whether I wanted to or not. My hands across his chest and then tangled in his hair and I needed to know how it would taste when he gasped against my tongue.

He danced me around, humming a tune I had yet to learn, and I laughed at his goofy two left feet because he was Stu and I loved him for that. It was warm and glowing, but not starry eyed this time; I could see his flaws sketched out like all the bruises on the pallid surface of his skin. His avoidance of commitment, his bitterly angry depression, even his delayed thought processing, and yet I loved him with it all. I wanted to kiss my adoration into his skin until he felt it forever like a silver scar, no matter how far the world tried to drag us from each other.

_I love you, even after all this time_ , I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come, just as they never had and I was finally content with not having said them as he ruffled my hair, as he squinted at me with one eye.

"You're a terrible dancer, Low Slow."

At the sound of the old silly nickname he had given me I felt my cheeks flush, grinning as I lightly pushed him in response to his comment. The blue-haired man stumbled back just a little, poking his tongue out at me whilst he snickered at my answering eye roll.

"It's hard to look good dancing when my partner is  _so_  graceful," I mock-sighed, only making his smile grow wider as he shook his head.

"I'm surely the clumsiest person you know," He laughed, and when I made a sound of protest he pointed to his azure blue mop of hair and cut me off with, "I mean, you know how I got this hair colour right?"

_By falling out of a tree onto your head; I remember._

"By being a clumsy oaf," He supplied when I didn't answer straight away, and I shushed him with a scowl, moving back in close to place my fingers over his lips and feeling the warmth of his exhale when he laughed at my fierce expression.

"Shut up, Stu."

We were standing too close together again, that same strange stillness falling over us both as I looked around wildly for something to distract him from noticing the glow of my skin where his mouth had touched. Surely he'd see, surely he'd wonder why exactly it was that when I opened my mouth to speak there was always a flicker of light down past the darkness of my throat.   
                        The candle-bearer, still bravely walking upwards through me to finally offer him the view of all that golden luminance stretching out forever onwards from that first clumsy fall at the fairgrounds; the two of us standing together waiting for something to happen yet I had never been sure what.

Anxiety jittering through my body, I looked anywhere but his dark eyes as I noticed there was a sheet of paper beneath my bare foot. Stooping to pick it up, I only had a split second to look at the scratchily drawn sketch wavering across it before 2D snatched it from my hand with a blush.

"That's not finished either!" He exclaimed, hiding it behind his back while I smirked.

"Well how about you finish it then, Mr Secret-Art-Projects," I teased lightly, crouching to sit on the floor and grabbing my own piece of paper with which to draw on.

2D hesitated for a moment before taking a seat across from me, picking up a discarded pencil and tentatively placing his drawing on the ground. I tried to peer across at it, and he snickered as he hid it from view with his hands.

"No peekin', awright?"

I made a "hmph" sound but still nodded, just happy to be distracting myself from my increasingly concerning thoughts. Searching around for another pencil, I could only find a blue biro sitting atop one of his hand drawn music sheets, and wrinkled my nose in annoyance as I began my un-erasable drawing.

"You should draw a portrait of me so you can hang it on your bedroom wall," The boy said as I chewed the end of the pen, thinking of what to sketch.

"Aye, great plan," I laughed, raising my eyebrows at him from across the empty sheet of paper before jibing, "Then can I get you to autograph it? And then autograph my left tit as well?"

"Ah, still so bitter about the past, Sloane McLeod," He snickered, flicking a scrunched up scrap of paper at my nose when I fixed him with a scowl. It bounced off, and I flung it back with a sharp-toothed grin as I returned to my blank paper, knowing exactly how I was going to be drawing the blue-haired boy.

The biro was a familiar vivid navy across the white of the paper as I began to sketch out a large whale, and I felt my forehead crease as I tried to remember where I'd seen the same colour pen so recently. Nothing came to mind as I drew a harpoon embedded in the whale's side, scribbling blood and guts coming from the wound. Finally, I added in a terribly wonky version of 2D, with his legs way too long and his hair a large spiky scribble.

"Okay, I've finished my beautiful portrait of you," I announced, bringing the biro back up to my mouth and sucking at it. The man across from me looked up, gaze lingering on my lips for a moment of silence before he reached out and batted the pen out of my mouth.

"Don't do that," He mumbled, and I quirked an eyebrow at him as I tried my best not to ask teasingly why. My response must have been suggestive enough however, as he suddenly scrambled to explain, "It's so gross ta look at."

I scoffed at his reason, fidgeting for a moment of indecision before signing the bottom of my drawing,  _'Stuart Pot becomes a MAN and faces up to his FEARS, by Sloane McLeod'_  and slid it over to him. He smiled as he picked it up, gapped teeth on display, before frowning as he saw what it was.

"I am awready a man!" He protested, and I sniggered as he added in a boyish pout, "You're so mean."

"Softy."

He continued drawing for a moment longer before he dropped the pencil, holding up his sketch proudly for me to see. It looked like a misshapen and hairy foot, with a thin calf jutting out the top. I stared at it for a long moment, before realising slowly that the "calf" was in fact a windmill, the misshaped "foot" actually a grass covered rock formation.

"A rock windmill?" I asked tentatively, scared I would hurt his feelings if I guessed wrong. To my relief he only looked baffled, looking between me and the drawing with an air of incredulousness.

"It's the floating island! Noodle's island," He finally exclaimed, as if I had failed to recognise a photograph of my own mother or something. Although the image was unfamiliar, his words weren't, and I bit my lip as I tried to formulate a response that wouldn't make him sad.

"Was it real?" I heard my own voice ask, and I grimaced sheepishly at how dopey it sounded, "I mean, did it actually float?"

2D looked at my quizzically as he replied simply, "Of course? I dunno how... but it just did! Why wouldn't it?"

I swallowed, uncomfortable as his black eyes searched my face for an answer I didn't want to provide. The silence stretched and grew heavy around us before I finally opened my mouth, agitation a living flutter within my stomach.

"I just thought it would have then made more sense that it crashed if it was a prop or a machine or something. I'm sorry."

"Oh..." He murmured softly, fiddling with his hands before he would meet my eye again, "Well, I wasn't completely honest wiv you before I fink. It didn't crash on accident. It was gunned down by helicopters."

_What?_

"Murdoc said they were these mercenaries hired by The Black Clouds - the pirates who're tryin' ta kill him - but I dunno if I trust anyfink he says," 2D continued, his voice dropping to the cold monotone of a stranger as he spoke, "I fink he sent her out there on purpose for publicity. He wanted ta murder her."

"Surely -" I began to protest, but he cut me off as if he hadn't heard me speak.

"I have it in my head whenever I close my eyes, that footage of her screamin' while the whole island ripped apart as it fell. All her stuff was flying everywhere an' her along wiv it an' I never saw her again."

_We're both haunted by deaths we were helpless to prevent._

"I'm so sorry Stu," I murmured, leaning over to take his hand in both of mine, "I can't imagine how awful it would have been to watch that."

He looked down at his large hand clasped between my much smaller ones, blinking slowly as he curled his fingers around them. My heart fluttered on my tongue as he brought our clasped palms up to his sternum, gently knocking my knuckles against the bony plane.

"It's okay Sloane, you don't have ta imagine," He said softly, before a bitter smile spread crooked across his face, and he continued, "You can watch it fa yourself."

Without explaining, he suddenly stood, releasing my hands and leaving me sitting cold and surprised on the floor. The blue-haired man was sullen as he stalked over to his collection of films, shuffling through the ones that were still neatly inside their cases. I watched his hands pass carelessly over them, shivering at how quickly he could become callous.

"We had our music videos and all this promotion material from the last album put on this DVD at Murdoc's request," 2D said distractedly as he held his chosen film aloft, a flash barely long enough for me to read the title emblazoned on the cover.

_Slowboat to Hades_.

"... he was always waffling on about immortalisin' the band or somefink," He continued, taking the disc out and shoving it into the player with a scowl, "Anyway, the  _El Manana_  video is on here."

Grabbing the remote, he switched the television on just as the DVD began to play, settling back down beside me on the bedroom floor. I looked over to him, but his black eyes wouldn't meet mine as he began fast-forwarding through the movie to reach the music video in question.  
                        I looked back to the screen, seeing the opening titles give way to what looked like a city melding into a tower and then the fast flashing images of a red room of bodies all flickering past at speed, zooming in to a figure in a chair and then it was 2D himself, much younger yet just as defeated-looking as the skipping footage rendered whatever he was singing entirely mute. There was a flash of Murdoc for a second, before the camera returned to 2D and I gasped as I momentarily thought I recognised what he was wearing.

_A purple ringer tee with pink trimming._

The man beside me raised a single brow at me, squinting as he visibly tried to guess what I had reacted to, and I felt my cheeks colour. There was no way he'd even remember what I was talking about, yet I found myself telling the abashed truth regardless, my face hot under his scrutiny.

"That looks so much like my old pyjama t-shirt."

2D blinked, surprised, before pausing the video in it's fast-forward motion and turning to me with the beginnings of a smile. Instead of replying, he abruptly stood, crossing over to the stack of drawers the television sat on top of. I watched his bony form as he opened the top one and began to rummage, before pulling out a neatly folded purple garment, the only piece of clean laundry I'd ever seen of his that hadn't been put away crumpled. I shook my head, heart beating hard and fast as he held it out to me, a souvenir from a best forgotten past.  
                  When I didn't take the package he gave me a confused look, before unfolding and holding it up.

_I searched for it when I packed my things... I couldn't find it._

It was faded from wash and wear over the five years since I'd last seen it, but it was unmistakable in it's ugly purple tone, it's pink ringer tee trims. I gaped at it, finally reaching out to gently lift it from his hands and down onto my lap, feeling the strangest kind of sadness as I looked it over.

_The only clothing item of my own that I saved from my old home before the fairgrounds, and then the only thing I couldn't even find to take when we then left there._

"My ugly shirt... You kept it? All this time?"

"Surely you knew that? I wore it fa you in  _Feel Good Inc._ ," He replied slowly, frowning as he tried to decode my surprise even as I shook my head, not understanding.

_He wore it... for me?_

"You never watched the music video for  _Feel Good Inc._?" 2D asked, genuinely incredulous. Something about his surprise, his clear presumption that I would have of course seen the multitude of Gorillaz filmography that was supposedly out there, rubbed me the wrong way.

"You broke my heart, as if I could then bear to watch you ponce around singing," I snapped defensively, earning myself a wounded look from the blue-haired man.

"Will you watch it now?"

We stared at each other, an offer sitting between us that if I left untaken, would become a strike against me for however much longer we remained friends. I could feel the ghost of my younger self still alive within me, shaking her head viciously at the idea of finally watching the music video to Gorillaz' most famous track, the one I had taken great pains to avoid listening to for what had seemed like an eternity. My avoidance for years had me running from shopping malls playing it over their loudspeakers, switching off radios for months on end, and doing away with MTV entirely. What was all that pain and agitation for if I sat here with the blue-haired boy now and watched it?

_It's a survival tactic you no longer need; just let it go. Let him share himself with you. Let it go._

I nodded, feeling my fingers clench and unclench in the material of the shirt as he rewound the clip to the start before pressing play. He was still standing by the television, and I watched the light reflecting onto his pale face for a moment until the first beginning bars of the song pulled my attention to the onscreen footage.

I watched in wonder as the 2D of the past performed in the red room of debauchery, that same lazily drawling voice I remembered from years ago singing low and raspy about windmills and love being free. I finally saw what Russell looked like, stoic and effortlessly cool as he played the drums in the background, seeming very much like a calm driving force instead of the showman Murdoc proved to be. I felt my jaw drop, blinking in surprise at the sight of a much less green version of the sinister man unabashedly swaying and grinding his hips onscreen, surrounded by enamoured women.

_What the fuck._

Then the blue-haired boy was at the window and my heart was breaking to see how tired he looked, how sad his face was as he stared out into the open sky and to the floating island beyond the glass. Yet the old purple t-shirt suited him, fitting the boy's larger frame better than it ever had mine, and I felt my eyes prickle with the beginnings of tears as I smiled at the sadness of only just now finding out he'd had it this entire time. My throat felt thick and swollen as I watched the footage of a small girl with her black fringe hanging sleek over her eyes, sitting serenely and swinging her legs over the edge of the island while she played guitar in the song's bridge; a very different version of Noodle to the one I had met.   
                     I glanced for only a moment over to the man standing beside the television, pained to see his face reflected with the green of the grass on the floating island, eyes wet with tears that had not yet fallen. My heart twisted painfully within my chest, and I looked away quickly, unable to take the sight.

The video continued, the onscreen version of 2D returning to his seat whilst Murdoc continued to steal the limelight with his strange hip thrusting and adoring throng of females. Noodle's floating island disappeared behind black clouds and took with her the only sunshine, leaving behind darkness as the blue-haired boy slumped defeatedly back down into his throne, repeating the words "feel good" whilst everything around him was clearly suggesting the opposite.

"You should have watched it," 2D said, shrugging at my expression of shocked disbelief as the screen faded to black, "Then you'd have always known just how much I still cared."

I blinked away tears, still clutching the t-shirt to my chest as I slowly stood, feeling my heart pounding against my knuckles as I crossed the room to pull him into a tight embrace. My face against his shoulder and the world warm and glowing as he sighed out in relief, holding me close. I could feel his pulse jumping through his skin as I murmured quietly, so quietly I for a moment thought he wouldn't hear as I asked the one question none of this had answered.

"Why did you take it though? You were leaving me to go back to Kong Studios, to go back to the life that made you happy; why did you take it with you?"

He went still in my arms, completely silent as he searched for his answer, before I felt his breath stir in my hair and he was replying in a bashful hush, all apologetic uncertainty.

"I'm not sure I know, Sloane."

And it was okay that he didn't know, it was okay that he was still unsure and fumbling for the answer to it all because in that moment I suddenly knew what I hadn't at seventeen, or eighteen, or even in the split second before I had seen the shirt in his hands and it had all become clear, so clear. Our bodies were pressed seamlessly together, two fragments that had somehow come together against all odds and through all obstacles to align perfectly against one another, as I leaned up on my toes to whisper into his ear, my lips moving lightly over the warm skin just under his jaw.

"It's alright, Stu; I know."

He pulled back ever so slightly, his black eyes forever fathomless as they looked into mine for a moment, before tracing down my face to my mouth and hovering there in a pause like a heartbeat. Then he was leaning down to close the gap between us, my eyes fluttering closed and impatient hands sliding through the long tufted hair either side of his head to pull him to me.

_You kept it because you loved me. You still do._

Then his mouth on mine, soft and warm, lips parting as his hands stroked up my spine to press me closer to his wiry frame. The inside of his mouth tasted sweetly of oranges still, my tongue moving against his in the dizzy glow of it all and I had no thoughts, no thoughts at all except for the heat of his skin pressed to mine as his fingers fisted themselves in the thick cotton of my shirt. Everything was disintegrating, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensation flashing through my body; my teeth biting into his lip, a low groan in the back of his throat, then him pulling away with his eyes half-lidded as they met mine.

"I feel like I've been having this dream since forever," He murmured, bottom lip already bruising with the crescent shaped mark my teeth had made in the soft skin. I laughed lightly, still breathless as I moved my hands to cup his jaw, tracing the pad of my thumb across a flushed cheek.

"Don't wake just yet then."

His smile was beautiful, dark eyes closing briefly in bashful joy before his lips were back against mine, feverish with want and I answered in the language of a gasp against his tongue, hands sliding up his shirt and feeling the heat of his skin burning against my starving hands.

_I love you, I love you._

My hands were tangled in his hair as he lifted me in his arms, legs hooked around his waist as I bit into his neck hard enough to make him moan, sucking and nipping at the skin whilst he carried me over to his bed. When he lowered me down against the mattress I grinned wide, unable to contain the rush of joy I felt as he smiled back, as he kissed the dip in my collarbone, as he trailed his mouth in love-bites down my chest, his fingers tugging at the collar of my shirt to pull it down as he pressed his lips to my skin.

"Can this come off?" He asked, tugging at the hem of the black turtleneck but unwilling to lift it until I laughed, nodding.

"Everything can come off, if you like."

2D grinned wide, his teeth a mess of gaps and golden crowns as he leaned in close to kiss me, before pulling the shirt up and over my head. Blackness obscuring my vision for a moment as the material passed over my eyes and then his face was back, mouth open in wonder as his hands reached to finally trace the pale expanse of my ribs, cupping my breasts and pulling me up to meet his mouth whilst his fingers left indentations in the skin of my shoulders.

I murmured his name against his throat as I pulled his briefs away, sliding them down his gangly legs and laughing as he contorted to try and accomodate me. Long legs kicking wildly, and when he finally managed to wriggle them off I balled them up in my hand and flung them onto the other side of the room, giggling as he tugged roughly at my jeans to try and do the same. Long fingers at the button and fly, undoing them as he'd done once before but this time all urgency, all unabashed eagerness as he pulled them down and away.

My legs were hooked around his waist as he trailed his gaze from the lacy pair of underwear I'd chosen that morning, up my scarred and bruised torso to my face. His black eyes were alive with embers as he paused, hands frozen where they pressed against the tops of my open thighs whilst I waited for him to speak.

"Sloane."

Just my name, whispered from between his lips like the beginning of a prayer, and I took his hands in mine, I guided his fingers as they slid my panties down. No barriers between us as I finally held him close to me, feeling his skin against my skin and knowing that finally there was nothing to separate us as I looked up into the bright black of his eyes. Hands tangling in his hair, his hips bucking against me involuntarily as I let my body grind against him, feeling the hard length of his cock press to the wet ache between my legs.

"Are you sure?" He asked, voice husky as his lips moved close enough to brush soft across the baby hairs at my temple.

"I'm sure, Stu."

And I  _was_  sure, as he slid his hand between us, fingers stroking across the inside of my thigh in slow lines of fire. I was sure, so sure, as I moaned against his mouth when he pressed just one of those long digits against the dripping heat of my core.   
                          A shiver passed down my spine, skin tingling with hypersensitivity as he slipped his index finger inside of me, curling and uncurling it whilst I felt my back arch at the sudden jolt of pleasure. He pulled it from me, before adding a second when they slid back inside, the blue-haired man leaning back to watch me writhe at his touch.

"You're so wet," he whispered, and I watched with wide, wanting eyes as he brought his glistening fingers up to his mouth, gaze heavy on mine as he sucked them clean.

"And you're a tease," I managed to respond, breathless as I pulled him back down to kiss me.

His lips were hot on mine, teeth clashing as we collided and I laughed against his mouth at how dizzying it was to love him. How real and raw and even slightly painful when he first pushed his length inside of me, fingers digging so suddenly into the flesh of my thighs as he held me to him.

I was gasping, hands clenched in the sheets, before a memory rose unbidden to the surface of thought.

_Gravel and dust sent flying in a gritty spray as I am thrown from the steps of the caravan, feet thudding against my ribs and when Sticks crawls on top of me I cannot escape and I'm too small to stop them, I'm too weak to fight hard enough to shake myself free and the sharp stones beneath my back rake grazes down my brittle spine-_

I flinched away, my mouth going dry as I tried to breathe through the sudden shock. 2D's hands searching as they smoothed over my skin, and I kept my gaze tracing the point of his chin, the angular shape of his jaw.

_You're safe. You're loved._

The words were soundless within every kiss he pressed to the crook of my neck, every thrust of his hips against mine. Together we could find a way to live after what we'd lost; one could hear it proclaimed within the morse code of his pulse jumping under my touch. I felt my fear slowly slip away with each time he moved to meet me, the press of sweaty skin and the sound of him moaning out a broken "fu-uck" into the heady air. 

It never occurred to me, as I lay beneath him, that maybe, just maybe, something was being lost in translation.


	19. 3.6

We were lying in a daze, my body melted naked against the bedsheets and the warmth of his skin. With the tip of my finger I traced his hip, drawing patterns across the bare flesh and watching as goosebumps prickled up in a trail after my touch. With every sleepy breath his ribs rose and fell, fingers twitching where he'd left his hand laid over my stomach, and I couldn't close my eyes against the beautiful sight of him curled around me.

_I'm glad I lived to feel this happy._

2D shifted, pulling me closer even as he opened one half-lidded black eye, grinning dopily when he saw me watching him.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" He asked in a tease, languidly reaching out to place his hand over my eyes, "It's rude ta stare."

"I wasn't staring!" I protested with a laugh, pushing his hand away and then holding it warm in mine as I added, "I was admiring."

2D looked flustered, smiling wide even as he fidgeted at my blatant adoration. I smirked at how suddenly shy he seemed, about to point out that we'd gone a little too far now for self preservation when a sound stopped me in my tracks.

The rumbling of the elevator moving down the empty shaft to the  _B2_  floor, followed by the soft bell announcing it's arrival. It rang out across the silent space like the heralding of a wrathful god.

_I'm naked._

In vulnerable panic I ripped the blanket out from where it was tangled between 2D and I, the force causing the blue-haired man to be flung off the edge of the bed. He landed with a loud thud of lanky legs and arms, letting out an explosive "oof!", and I gasped out in mortified apology. I sat up to help him off the floor just as the lift doors clunked open to reveal the cyborg Noodle standing motionless within the interior and Murdoc striding out past her, nasally voice projecting out into the room before he even entered it.

"Oi, face-ache! I need that final song finished by today, and all we're waiting on is -" He cut off abruptly as he registered the scene he was walking in on; me holding the rumpled blanket up to myself and leaning down to offer a hand to 2D, stark naked and groaning on the floor. Murdoc's eyes narrowed for just a moment, a split second in time where I could see the light die in his eyes, before his face seemed to reset itself, going cold and mocking as he sneered, "Well well, isn't this just  _adorable._ "

2D finally took my offered hand, and I strained hard with what little muscle I had to pull the gangly man to his feet. Without acknowledging Murdoc, he pulled on a pair of briefs he had picked up off the floor, before turning to finally face his bandmate with his expression set in a mask of lazy nonchalance.

"Ever fought about knockin'?" The blue-haired man drawled, standing with his shoulders rounded defensively and bare skin glowing pale in the fluorescent light.

From Murdoc there was no response as he merely crossed his arms, mouth curving into a cruel smirk as he looked between the two of us with the same keen interest of a spider towards trapped flies. I frowned, wrapping the blanket tighter around myself as I stood up from the bed to stand beside 2D, my skin prickling with an uncomfortable agitation I couldn't quite place.

_It's the calm before the storm._

2D was heedless of the animosity fizzing like static in the air as he scowled at the green-skinned man from across the room, jaw set in defiance.

"What the fuck do you want, Murdoc? Other than ta come an' try havin' a perv on Sloane."

The words were like a switch, flicking the room from uncertain darkness to bright red light as I watched Murdoc's smirk falter. Something briefly flashed within his mismatched eyes, but was gone too quickly to decipher as his mouth twisted into a wide smile full of crooked teeth.

"Stu..." I murmured, a warning the blue-haired man didn't heed as he continued, emboldened by Murdoc's silence.

"I'm not recording any more soddin' garbage fa you," He declared brusquely, shaking off my placating hand when I pressed it urgently to his upper arm, "So you might as well just leave me in here forever."

Murdoc's smile was sharp, dangerous. I swallowed hard against the panic rising up from my stomach as I glanced between them both, waiting with bated breath for the terrible final word between the two of them.

"Leave you in here forever?" The green-skinned man asked softly, eyes glinting, "Are you sure?"

2D smirked, curling an arm around my waist to draw me in closer as he sealed our fates; too cocky, too thoughtless.

"As long as I have Sloane wiv me, I'd be happy ta live anywhere; in here or hell."

I loved him for the words, felt my heart glow with warmth that he felt that way for me, but he shouldn't have said them. Standing there in threadbare pink Y-fronts, flesh a patchwork of yellowing bruises, he still looked like the closest thing to some sort of saviour I'd ever seen. Lou's angel had been Birdie, mine was a six foot two and barely dressed man-child.

_Stu, I love you but you honestly couldn't have said anything stupider just now._

Murdoc was chuckling softly, the sound low in his throat and completely without mirth. My hands tightened in their clenched grip on the blanket, heart thudding hard against the cage of my chest as I watched him shake his head, fixing us both with a smug grin.

"Okay, deal."

I blanched, too shocked by his calm response to comprehend what was happening as 2D shuffled in surprise, his arms dropping to his sides and releasing me from his embrace as he eyed the other man off.

"Really?" 2D asked carefully, raising a hand to scratch confusedly at the crown of his head, "No tricks? No punishments? You'll leave me alone?"

"Oh yes," Murdoc purred, stepping forward with a hand offered to shake, "I'll leave you alone 2D. You have Murdoc Niccals' word of honour."

_Something is off here._

"Stu, don't," I whispered urgently, but 2D wasn't listening as he moved forward dazedly, reaching out to clasp hands with the green-skinned man in agreement of the deal.

Crooked verdant fingers tightened around long pale ones, tugging 2D just a step closer as Murdoc spoke again, mouth moving near the blue-haired man's ear as his hazel eyes looked over his shoulder to meet mine.

"Well it's time to say goodbye to Sloane then."

I watched him grin wide, and closed my eyes against the sight as I realised with a sinking feeling exactly what 2D had just agreed to.

"What? No... no. She's stayin' here wiv me; you promised," His voice wavered, confused and fearful as he tripped over himself to try and comprehend.

Murdoc sniggered, shaking his head, "No, I promised I would be leave you  _alone_  in here, forever."

2D wrenched his hand from Murdoc's as if he'd just been bitten by a poisonous snake, the action rippling into the surrounding room like a tidal wave of cause and effect as the tension broke into a flurry of sudden movement. I lunged forward as Murdoc drew his fist back, diving to get between them just as he went to strike out hard and fast for 2D's unprotected face. Eyes wide, hands up, my palms closed around his green knuckles whilst behind me the blue-haired man cried out my name.

Yet Murdoc didn't hit me. His fist flew forward and then stopped dead in the air as soon as I stepped into it's path. Grey eyes meeting tawny ones, no words to say. I looked up at him imploringly as he froze for just a moment under my touch, before his gaze was flicking back to 2D and I knew I'd lost him even before he wrenched his hand from between mine. There was a click, the snap of his thumb and forefinger together and then the small cyborg girl had grabbed a hold of my arms.

"NO!" I cried out, furiously thrashing within the vicelike grip of the inhuman child as I watched 2D lunge towards Murdoc with a snarl.

"You almost hit her! You fucking bastard-"

Whatever litany of insults he had been about to throw in my honour was cut short as the green-skinned man took the opportunity to kick 2D's legs out from underneath him, the gangly man sent sprawling into the bedroom wall with a painful thud.

"Stu!" I shrieked, twisting back and forth in the cyborg's arms as I tried to break free to run to his aid. The blanket wrapped around me was beginning to come loose with my violent motions, but I couldn't care less as I watched him sit up on his knees, palms rubbing over the crown of his skull.

Murdoc looked like a merciless being as he stood over the groaning figure cradling his head on the floor, gaze slicing down like a razor. He pulled back a booted foot, ready to slam it into his exposed ribcage, and I felt my heart leap into my mouth with how fast it was beating from fear.

"Don't touch him!" I spat, before softening, my voice tired and defeated as I reasoned, "You win, Murdoc. Just please, don't hurt him anymore."

The two men looked up at me, and I turned expectantly to the cyborg girl who held me from behind. With another click from Murdoc she released me, and I was quick to catch the blanket as it started to slip free from around my bony form. When I returned my attention to the room's inhabitants, I had three pairs of eyes heavy on mine as they each waited for something from me.  
                     A dark brown pair mostly obscured by her fringe, staring unblinkingly as their owner waited to see whether or not I'd move to attack. A hazel pair, one of which was slightly bloodshot, watching me keenly as the man studied me for answers to a question I had never heard him asking. Then those black eyes, like two ink blots set in the pale angles of his face, big and wide as he silently begged me not to say what I was about to say, what I had to say, to keep him safe.

"Murdoc, I will willingly leave this room with you and leave 2D down here alone, just please, please, stop hurting him."

2D closed his eyes, still hunched on the floor but now shaking his head in misery, whilst Murdoc fixed me with a bored look.

"You think I care what manner you leave the room in?" He asked with a callous laugh that rang out into the room like tendrils of ice, and I felt my stomach twist at how wrong I'd been about him.

_How is this the same person who stitched me up yesterday? Who held my wrists and told me they couldn't watch me cry?_

It seemed I had been duped, and I was bitterly screaming out "NO" as he snatched the double barrel rifle off the Noodle cyborg, slamming the butt of it into 2D's head so hard that his skull collided with the ground.

_NO no NO NO NO NO -_

The cyborg girl was viciously tugging me away and I was yelling out every word I knew like a prayer as I watched 2D look up from where he'd fallen, black eyes half-lidded and dazed as they met mine.

_I love you._

I might have said it, mouthed it, or perhaps I was silent as I was dragged into the elevator, as the two of us watched each other disappear from sight.

Murdoc joined his cyborg and I in the crowded lift box, a man made of ice as he looked at me with barely concealed loathing. The button for his upper level study was pressed, and the doors closed.

"What the fuck was that about?" I asked into the silence, receiving no answering sound within the confined space except that of the lift rumbling as it rose.

It was only when there was the usual chime of us arriving at the upper floor that the green-skinned man deigned to respond, his voice flat and disinterested.

"He's here to contribute to the band, not to... not to mess you around."

_Mess me around? Doesn't he mean, "mess around with" me?_

"Wait," I said slowly, blinking as I tried to comprehend what was being said, "So you just tried to beat the shit out of 2D because... what? We slept together?"

Murdoc rolled his eyes, stepping from the elevator and into his study without a backward glance. The cyborg girl frogmarched me after him, before abruptly releasing me at click of his fingers.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? This is what you wanted, this is the whole reason you brought me to this radge island," I snapped at his retreating back, watching as his shoulders tensed at the sullen words.

"Well, I changed my mind!" He spat back, before blinking slowly, his face settling back into nonchalance as he added, "As have you, it seems. Don't seem to hate good old face-ache so much anymore, hmmm?"

I ignored his jibe, holding the blanket tighter around myself as I followed him over to where he'd sat down at his desk, neatening papers as he waited for my answer.

"You constantly treat 2D like shit, always pushing him around and putting him down, but today was too far, Murdoc," I told him calmly, trying to understand what exactly it was that had flipped the switch and turned him into the cold bastard that sat before me.

The man raised a single brow, it disappearing under his fringe as he disinterestedly intoned, "Is that so?"

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth, feeling my patience waning.

"That's interesting," Murdoc drawled, reaching over to take an unopened bottle of red wine from the edge of the desk and twisting off the lid, "Because I could have taken it much further."

He watched me, gaze distant as he took the bottle up to his lips and tipped it back, the burgundy liquid staining the corners of his mouth as he gulped it down.

"Why are you like this? Why do you act so violent and hateful when we both know you can be better than that?" I demanded, watching him drink with that same bitter disappointed feeling that I'd felt yesterday.

His Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed, lip curling in a sneer as he looked coldly up at me.

"You don't know me at all."

Despite myself, I felt a grin spread across my face at his angsty words, my tone light and teasing as I replied, "Yeah I do; you're the big grumpy lion from that old story, the one with the thorn in its paw."

Murdoc frowned slightly for a moment, before his expression faded back into one of boredom.

"Oh yeah? Mmhegheh and I suppose you think you're the little mouse come to pull the prick out?" He goaded, his tone one of bitter condescension.

"No way," I said, still grinning as I refused to take the bait, "I'm the poacher out on safari who's still figuring out whether or not to blow the lion's brains out with my hunting rifle."

For a moment I thought I might have managed to melt his wall of ice, my gaze on his mouth as I waited for a smile, perhaps even a smirk. Murdoc's lips twitched, his teeth for a moment on display, but it seemed I had fallen too far out of his good graces as he instead scowled.

"The only one in danger of getting their brains blown out is 2-dents if he doesn't stop wasting our recording time with you," He drawled, then added with a cruel laugh, "Though of course, I'm not entirely sure he  _has_  any brains to get blown out."

_He's being so needlessly cold, for no reason at all. Maybe this is what Stu was trying to warn me about this whole time._

I felt tired and crushed as I looked down at him, wondering how I always seemed to read people so wrong.

"Fuck off, Murdoc," I murmured quietly, exhausted from all the conflict as I added in a sigh, "Just stop trying to hurt 2D and make him any more sad than he already is, or the next time you hurt him I'm gonna have to kill you."

We glared at each other in silence, the cyborg girl looking on from the corner of the room whilst the sunlight streamed golden through window panes. The green-skinned man's gaze was frosty, burning cold against my skin when he finally spoke, mouth twisting as he nodded despite the fact nothing had been said.

"So that's your conclusion? You're choosing him, despite how clearly incapable he is of ever making you happy," Murdoc drawled flatly, lips curled in a sneer that made me clench my jaw defensively.

_Choosing him? A choice between Stu and who else exactly?_

"Stu does make me happy," I snapped, crossing my arms, "He's a much better person than you or anyone else is willing to give him credit for."

Murdoc was silent for a moment, long nails scratching the length of his jaw as his hazel gaze lowered towards the grooved surface of the oaken desk he stood behind.

"Well what a shame then," he sniggered, looking back up at me with a cold cruelness, "That you'd turn out to be just as pathetic as any of those other girls that always used to moon after what has to be the most dimwitted pretty boy to ever front a band."

I could feel myself getting riled up despite the voice of reason inside my head telling me not to take the bait. Something in his voice was too flat, too nonchalant. I had noticed yet paid it no mind as I felt my forehead wrinkle into a frown, eyes burning and teeth just beginning to bare.

Then, the words.

"I'm not mooning after him, I'm in love with him."

The man ever so slightly raised his eyebrows, the green skin over the Adam's Apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed. For a moment I thought I saw something flicker in the depths of his hazel eyes, something fathomlessly lonesome, before it was gone behind his wall of prickling defence.

"What a pity; he'll be getting rid of you soon then," Murdoc sneered, nonchalant as he turned his attention to picking out dirt from beneath his long nails. I curled my lip in disgust, bristling at his callous prediction.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Unfazed, his smile was sharp and sadistic as he purred, "We'll see, hehhegh."

My mouth tasted bitter as I stepped forward, placing my hands on the surface of the large desk and leaning over so that our faces were mere inches apart. There was a sadness to it all, as if I were somehow losing a friend as I snarled my answer to his goading condescension.

"I have loved that man since I was seventeen years old; he's the only person I've lost who's ever found their way back to me. You can't stand there in all your bitterness and tell me it won't work out this time."

His sneer didn't falter, gaze dipping for just a moment to my mouth before settling lazily back on mine. I was close enough to see the slim circle of gold in the flecks of brown and green of his irises, watching the dark pupils at their centre blow wide as they dilated. There was something in there, somewhere behind all his pretence and posturing, and yet I couldn't look past all the masks he wore to see what lay beneath.  
                    Without taking his eyes off mine, he grabbed the bottle of red wine off the desk once more, taking a long slug of it before finally responding.

"That little snivelling moron only bedded you for one reason, and I'll give you a clue Sloane, it wasn't because he loves you in return."

"Don't you dare -" I began but he kept speaking, voice a mocking rasp.

"He's a bloody borderline sex-addict and he hasn't had a lay in months, yeahh? You're not his star-crossed lover, darling, you're just an easy target."

"Fuck you," I spat, the words sour across my tongue as I felt angry tears begin to prickle across my vision, "Fuck you and all your bitterness."

He laughed, a caustic sound between us, smirking as he leaned closer to speak softly, dismissively.

"Listen here love, I don't know how all this between you two got started, but I know how it ends: face-ache lying drowned in a pool of his own sick ten years from now, completely surrounded by fit birds who are all mourning the death of the lead singer of Britain's best band. None of whom, are you."

We faced each other off, my anger a wild animal racing uncaged through my bloodstream. Breathing hard, I stepped back, drawing myself up to my rather unimpressive full height to stare him down.

"In ten years, Stuart Pot will be alive and well," I told him through gritted teeth, determined for him to be wrong, "And it doesn't matter how much you hate me, I'll still be there standing right beside him."

"Alright, then why don't you run along down there to floor  _B2_  and confess your  _oh so sweet_ love to him if you're so sure I'm not right?" He goaded, and I felt my jaw set as he gestured lazily towards the elevator with his wine bottle, sniggering, "Well, go on."

_Why would I do that? Go and say what he surely already knows just to prove to Murdoc that 2D is capable of loving someone? That he's capable of loving me?_

I went to snap that our lives weren't a game for him to amuse himself by playing with, but something stopped me, something niggling under my skin like maggots in decaying flesh. I felt my hands itch to scratch open the sore and reveal it, even as the rational part of my mind begged for me not to.  
                      Murdoc gestured again to the lift doors, sneering at my failure to respond, and in sudden fear I felt myself rip back the layers of self-protection and pull out the terrible thought that dwelt below.

_Has 2D at any point, in all the years I've known him, ever said he loved anyone? His parents, Noodle, making music...? Has he ever even once said that he loved anything at all?_

I suddenly didn't know.

The terrible doubt was icy poison in my bloodstream as I stood there shivering, my hands white-knuckled as they clutched at the blanket wrapped tightly around me. I was too small and vulnerably naked to manage a response as I instead felt panic starting to rise up my throat like bile.

_He fucked so many girls back at the fairgrounds; a different woman every night with no interest to ever see them again afterwards. What makes me different from any of them? And why now - here in this place - where there is no one else to compete with for his affections?_

"He loves me."

I said it like a child, hearing my own voice waver into the air like I had somehow regressed back to adolescence. Insecurities whispered in my ears, and I felt my hands shake as I lifted them to try to block out the hateful sounds.

_I'm glad I never committed ta you, Sloane Mcleod._

The memory of his words like a knife and then suddenly Birdie's, echoing out through the darkness as her final piece of advice to a seventeen-year-old nowhere girl.

_Be careful with 2D, Slo. Any guy that has gone around fucking that many girls without a second thought to their feelings mustn't feel much of anything at all._

And hadn't he said? Even then, that there was nothing between us? I scrunched my eyes closed against the terrible memory of it all, my insides twisting at the thought that maybe I was wrong again, maybe I was always going to be wrong about 2D and everyone else when it came to understanding how they felt towards me.

When I finally opened my eyes, Murdoc was watching me with an unreadable expression, half-risen out of his chair as if he had been about to approach me. The wine bottle hung limp from his hand, the man seemingly no longer intent on me making any sort of loving declaration to 2D as he raised a single brow questioningly.

"You're wrong," I said flatly, lips trembling as the heavy words dropped from them like stones. Together we watched them sink through the silence that followed, echoing into the sunlit room with the shadows of my own self-doubt.

_Is he? Is he?_

"If you're so sure, love," Murdoc smirked, and stood upright, grabbing a bottle of dark brown spirits from his desk drawer as he did so, "I'll escort you back down to your lover's bedchamber then, shall I?"

I scowled, turning my back on him as I stalked angrily back to the elevator and pressed the "down" button. Barely turning my head to speak to him, I snapped my response over my shoulder whilst the lift doors clunked and jerked open.

"That won't be necessary."

"Ohh, I insist," Murdoc sneered, stepping into the space beside me and lounging against the graffitied wall as he continued, "Otherwise how else am I going to know to come save your snivelling beloved from certain death when he once again rejects you and you pull your jilted lover routine by trying to murder him again? Hmm?"

I rolled my eyes, muttering, "crusty radge cunt" under my breath as I reached out to press the button for  _B2_. The green-skinned man finished the remainder of his red wine, wiping the back of his mouth with his knuckles before placing the empty bottle neatly in the corner of the lift and cracking the seal of the bourbon lid open.

"To the happy couple then; may you both live long and healthy lives hehgheh," He slurred slightly, raising the bottle up towards the flickering fluorescent light before taking a swig of the brown liquor inside.

I could remember how it had tasted at seventeen, fizzing bitter on my tongue while I watched 2D disappear from me. The memory made my mouth turn sour, and I frowned, turning from the display with my heart becoming a hard lump in my throat.

_Fuck having to feel like that, like I shouldn't have felt how I felt and that I couldn't even tell him for fear he'd leave me. He left anyway; whether with my love or without it._

I could feel Murdoc's gaze burning against my skin as I resolutely ignored him, the elevator shuddering to a stop. There was the now-familiar chime as the doors slid open achingly slow, and I was slipping my body between them as soon as the gap was wide enough to accomodate me.   
Only my arm remained within that limbo of the threshold between the lift box and 2D's room beyond when I felt Murdoc's hand close around my wrist, pulling me back to him with such force that I almost lost my grip on the blanket as I stumbled into his side.

My back was to 2D as I was caught flush against Murdoc's chest, gasping out in shock when the bare skin of my shoulder slammed into his sternum. His mouth close beside my ear, I could feel the rapid fire pulse of his heart as he began to speak in an urgent whisper.

"Look, Sloane-"

"I'm going to tell him," I cut him off, jerking violently from his grip so as not to feel the heat of his skin as I added bitterly, "So I hope you can think a little better of us both when he proves you wrong."

Murdoc blinked at my angry recoil from him, face set perfectly neutral as he replied in a quiet murmur, "Then I'll stay right here, just in case either of you needs to make a swift retreat."

_Fuck off you bitter condescending cunt._

I rolled my eyes, stalking from the lift as I muttered, "Just install a fucking lift panel in 2D's room and save yourself the effort."

2D was standing shaking in the centre of the space, expression flickering from terror to hatred as his head turned from staring out the porthole at the gigantic eye of the white whale to instead fix Murdoc with a glare. I felt my heart jolt painfully in my chest as I saw the fresh bruising around his left eye and swollen temple, burst blood vessels like spiderwebs across the skin below.

"Sloane, are you awright?" He asked tentatively, his black gaze briefly resting on my face before narrowing as they slid back over to the man in the elevator behind me. The large eye at the window receded into the dark water.

"I'm fine," I assured him, crossing the space between us to pull him into a hug, before turning to shoot Murdoc a glare of my own as I added through gritted teeth, "Murdoc was just leaving."

The green-skinned man sipped slowly at the bottle in his hand, watching us with a smirk for a few moments longer. 2D's arms tightened around me, pulling my smaller frame closer as he rested his pointy chin on my head, still glaring over at his band mate. Finally, a lazy green hand reached out, and Murdoc winked at me as he pressed the button to make the doors close.

2D immediately relaxed, softening against me the moment Murdoc was out of our sight, and I couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that he hadn't realised what I had: the was no rumbling sound of the lift moving from the  _B2_  floor.

"He's such a bastard, nuffink good in him whatsoever," the blue-haired man sighed into the silence, kissing the crown of my head before leaning back to look at me, "He didn't hurt you, right? 'Cause I'll have ta kill him if he did."

I shook my head and smiled, but the expression felt wrong as I looked up into his earnest face, tracing the dark circles beneath each of his black eyes and wondering how it was that I could even have doubted for a moment that he loved me.

"We just had a little chat, about how he's not going to abuse you anymore" I murmured, standing on my toes to lean up and kiss him softly.

2D made a sound low in his throat, lips parting as they pressed against mine so that I could taste the sweetness of his mouth. One of his hands reached up to cup the back of my skull, tenderly holding me in place as his other hand slowly pulled the blanket from my vicelike grip.

Naked to the air, a shiver ran across my bare skin alongside the warmth of his fingers tracing down my ribcage, smoothing into the dip of my waist. I wanted it to matter, but I could only hear a voice, a long-gone and lost voice that called from the past. My eyes were closed, but I could see the matchstick in my hand, feel the cigarette hanging from between my lips. Lou behind me, standing in the Spring sunlight on the caravan steps but I hadn't turned around at the time.  
                          I now wished I had, just to know what his face had looked like as he'd said those flat cold words, mad after our disagreement.

_Stay away from that guy Slo, I don't know what he is but it isn't good news._

I wanted to go back and tell him he was wrong, that he was so completely wrong, but at the time I had said nothing and I always said nothing and I needed 2D to know this time that I didn't want to be silent. I didn't want to go quietly into the big bleakness of the world without having told him that I loved him and I was glad he hadn't given up on me because I was never gonna give up on him.

2D was guiding me over to the bed, mouth still pressed hard to mine as his tongue ran along the inside of my lower lip, fingers clenching against my flesh. I gasped at the sudden almost-pain but only pulled him closer, hands fisting in the tangled blue mess of his hair.

_I love you._

Yet I still wasn't saying it as he gently tried to lay me down on the waiting bed, with me going rigid as I refused to move an inch towards it. Panic was starting to flutter beneath my sternum, insects taking flight to only beat themselves bloody against the unyielding bone.   
                      I yelped in surprise when he scooped me up in his lanky arms, him snickering at the sound before I was playfully dropped onto the bed, the mattress squeaking in protest at my sudden weight.

I looked up at him, all blue hair and bruises, his entirely black eyes crinkling slightly in the corners as he smiled in slight bemusement at my wide-eyed expression.

"Stu," was all I could manage to say, before my throat felt like it was seizing up and I choked on the rest of the words.

The blue-haired man's smile faded, quickly replaced by a frown of concern as he stooped to sit beside me on the narrow mattress, watching my face in confusion as he responded tentatively, "Yeah? Everyfing awright?"

_No. Nothing's ever going to be alright, but I think I can handle that as long as I have you._

Yet I didn't say it. He reached for my hands, clasping them warm in his own and I felt anxious tears well up bright and hot in my eyes, vision beginning to waver.

"Hey now, don't cry," 2D was rushing to say, trying to pull me in close to his side in a one-armed embrace but I was shaking my head, tears spilling down my cheeks as I leaned away from the touch I craved.

It was as if I had known the end before the end; some warning whispered to me whilst I'd slept by his side, drifting down through the layers of my skin and into the marrow.  
                      My heart with it's many mouths; a terrible, wanting thing, that shredded stitches from skin and begged for the past like a wound that would never heal. I was still the violent nowhere girl, but I was no longer naive as I looked across him and stuttered out three terrifying words I couldn't remember saying to anybody but Lou and Birdie, not once, in all my life.

"I love you."

He was both the blue-haired boy of the past and the man of the present as he froze, black eyes falling closed whilst he slowly exhaled. In one moment he was my 2D, my dearest Stu, and then suddenly so decidedly not. Walls rose up between us, hurried and clumsy brickwork which I couldn't hope to move past, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as I felt my hands slip cold from his.

"I shoulda known this would happen."

His reply came out in a tired sigh, empty and broken as he shifted ever so slightly away from me. I closed my eyes against the sight, feeling the tears streaming down my cheeks in long wet trails as I finally understood why it was that I had been warned by everyone, everyone in the fucking world, about Stuart Pot.

_He doesn't know how to let people love him._

"I've loved you since you lay beside me to wait for Lou, and brought me sandwiches in the rain," I told him, voice ragged as I finally looked at his face and saw how miserable he was at my words, uncomfortable as I tried to lightly ask, "Did you somehow not realise?"

He shook his head, azure blue locks of hair flicking with the violent movement.

"I'm slow in the head, remember? I'm fucking stupid."

"No you're not," I snapped, before softening, reaching out for his hand and feeling my heart lurch painfully in my chest as he recoiled from me. I could feel the heat beginning to rise to my cheeks as I added in gentle murmur, "I really want you to stop saying that about yourself; it's just not true."

2D stood abruptly from the bed, fists clenched as he stepped away, before turning back to speak to me as I sat there small and dejected on his bed.

"Well you know what I want? Ta be able ta exist in the same space as you without seeing all the ways I failed ta be enough laid out between us."

"You are enough, you've always been enough," I protested, but he wasn't listening, pacing back and forth with his hands fidgeting.

"Clearly not! Why have you not changed, not even in five years??" He ranted, lilting voice almost shrill with a panicked kind of frustration, "You're never happy wiv what we are, always asking fa more."

I wanted to reach out past his body to touch what lay beneath, to place gentle hands upon his frantic mind and ask it to calm, ask him to breathe. Yet I only sat there uselessly, body limp as I tried once more to help him understand, heart hoping even whilst I spoke with a mouth that tasted of ash.

"Saying I love you isn't asking for anything more, it's just saying exactly that; I love you and I want... you. For as long as you'll have me."

But he was shaking his head, hands ripping through his hair and then returning to their twitching at his diaphragm.

"Im not what you want, Sloane. Look at me, look at what I've become. You said it yourself; I'm not him, I'm not the boy you knew," He whispered across the space between us, voice a rasp that was all tears and terrified regret, "I've never been able ta make it work wiv anyone, never once in my life. Why are you askin' me ta ruin what we have on a whim?"

I blanched, the colour leaking from my face as I gaped at his words, feeling them as a hot lump in my throat that I had to somehow try and swallow. Rising from the bed, I stood before him nude and shivering as I managed to choke out my reply past it all.

"My love isn't a whim."

I watched as he tried to hold himself together, as he continued stacking up his defensive walls until there was no warmth in the world that could find it's way through.

"A few days ago you hated my guts, I'm sure you can switch back ta that easily enough," he murmured, mouth curled at how bitter his own words must have tasted on his tongue.

"I didn't hate you; I hated myself. When I first arrived and you ran to hug me like nothing had changed and you hadn't left, I was furious, but I didn't hate you," I explained, desperate for him to understand, "And I know I scorned you for it at the time, but you were right about us, back at the fair; I was too young. I wasn't ready to stand here and say the words I need to, which are that if I must live then I want it to be with you."

His black eyes were sad as they lifted to meet mine, my best friend stepping away from me with a slow shake of his blue-haired head.

"You can't put your life on me, Sloane, it's not fair."

"That's not what I m-" I began to protest the misunderstanding, but he cut me off.

"I can't be what you want."

My eyes stung as tears welled up at his words, the age-old sensation of having terribly misunderstood his feelings like the kiss of a razor to my skin.

"So you can sleep with me but you can't love me?" I heard myself ask quietly into the silence, my voice trembling over each word, "You can save my life but you can't share it with me?"

He sighed, hand tugging through his messy blue locks as he turned away for a moment, staring out through the porthole window. There was no longer any whale to see out there, just the inky black of the ocean stretching out forever around us. Then his gaze was back on me, softening as he opened his mouth finally to speak.

"In my head all I ever see is that image of you standing on the roof of the carousel waiting fa me, like some Trapeze Swinger just about ta jump," he murmured, reaching out to run his knuckles gently across my tear-stained cheek, "But I'm not strong enough ta catch you, Sloane, I never have been. I can barely even hold up myself."

I closed my eyes against the warmth of his hand, heart a raw agony as it shredded itself against the knifelike words echoing inside my chest.

_I love you and you can't love me, what a useless and bitter thing to feel._

"Then don't worry, I won't ask any more of you."

I jerked away from his touch, watching as his face went slack and open with misery.

"Sloane-"

"No, Stu, this time it's me who gets to leave. I get to walk out that door and not look back, and this time it can be you that lives with the regret of words you did or didn't say," I said, and my voice didn't tremble. I looked at him and held my hands out helplessly as I spoke into the hush, "I won't apologise for loving you."

2D looked hunched and small as he blinked slowly at my words, before his defences came back up, his terrible pride stepping in to grant him that mask of indifference he'd always so loved to wear. My hands clenched to fists as I watched him rearrange his face, evolving into a stranger as he tried to distance himself from my love.

_You can't stand there in all your fear and tell me it's my fault for mattering._

He made no response, standing cold and silent long enough for me to snap. Casting about the room in wounded fury, a familiar smug face caught my eye, and I felt my jaw clench. Striding over to where his spiderman cardboard cutout sat propped against the wall, I snatched off the long-nosed mask that hung over it's face and held it out to him in a violent jerking motion. The man flinched, and my chest ached to know it was me who had caused it.

"Well here you go then! Since you love masks so much; wear this one," I spat, voice cracking on every syllable, "It even has a long Pinocchio nose. That suits you right? You love lying to yourself and everyone else."

"Fuck you, Sloane," He muttered, hurt flickering across his expression briefly as he crossed his arms, refusing to take it from my trembling hand.

"No, we already did that," I bit back in response, blinking back angry tears as I carelessly tossed the smiling mask at his bare feet.

Finding my jeans and underwear where they'd been left crumpled on the floor, I didn't look at him as I pulled them on to cover my suddenly vulnerably naked body. Unable to locate the borrowed black turtleneck, I was shaking as I picked up my old purple ringer tee instead, tugging it on and ignoring the way it smelt like him.

When I looked back to 2D he was watching me from beside the bed, face pale and withdrawn in the fluorescent light. It was like holding a knife to my own throat as I felt through the darkness of my heart to find that candle-bearer with their lamp lit for the man who wouldn't allow himself to love me, and with tears drying salty down my cheeks, snuffed out the flame between the crush of both my hands.   
                      I could see him in my mind's eye just as he'd been that morning, licking orange juice from his fingers and grinning all boyish at me, the two of us rolling skin on skin together and laughing at clashed teeth. Days like that forever, as warm and full as I'd imagined them at seventeen. Yet my heart was a fruit he had gladly bitten into, devoured from the palm of his hand and then spit out the pit without care, without thought for the girl lying dead at his feet.

_Enough now._

"You were right," I murmured, turning to the elevator and slamming my fist against the steel as I blinked away bitter tears, "You were right! Open the fucking lift doors."

And they rumbled open, 2D's head jerking up in horrified shock as he saw Murdoc leaning smug against the back wall of the elevator box, taking a swig from his bottle.

"Of course I'm right, I'm Murdoc bleeding Niccals aren't I?" he wheezed, derision dripping off his tongue.

"Right about what?  _What the fuck has he been saying??_ " 2D was demanding in disoriented anger, but I only shook my head, unable to meet his gaze.

Murdoc laughed bitterly, waving with false cheer to his bandmate whilst I walked as one condemned to the threshold, my body hollow and cold. I heard a muted sound of grief from behind me, and turned to see the blue-haired man standing there with his hands held out helplessly, his body drooped in defeat.

"Don't go, Sloane, not like this," 2D pleaded, dark eyes wide as he took only one step towards the lift, seemingly able to go no further.

For a moment I faltered as I was faced with the agony written raw across his pale face, fingers trembling as they reached out to touch me and yet I knew now that was all I'd find there; flesh against flesh until he was sated and I was left bruised and bleeding in my search for something more. I could lie to myself and say it was worth living for, that it didn't hurt like a wound reopening over and over again, but for what? To not have to be alone?

_I can't do it. I can't cling to somebody who can't own up to their own emotions._

"I have to. I can't stay if you can't love me," I murmured, miserable as I finally stepped back to take my place beside Murdoc within the rumbling carriage, "That's a certain kind of torture I won't put myself through."

I met his gaze as if from a distance much greater than the one we both stared across at each other from, wanting with all my heart yet finally unable to walk any further into the hellfire with him. His lips were trembling when they parted, his words formed of tears not yet fallen.

"But you could stay here... we could be happy."

_I wish, forever and ever my love._

"Not this time, Stu."

I watched him break, dissolve to fragments that I had no hope to ever help reform into something whole.

"Why? Please, Sloane. Where will you go?" He was stumbling towards the open doors, tears streaming down his face.

"Back to DeWitt, beg him for my life," I laughed, bitter so bitter, "Since you don't want to share yours with me."

"No no no-"

Murdoc punched the button for the lift to shut, and it began to slowly rumble closed. Clanking, grinding, my beloved Stu a coward standing frozen just outside the doors long before the gap grew too narrow for him to pass through.

"Goodbye Stu," I whispered across that final uncrossable space between us, "I hope you find someone who you're not so terrified of loving."

And then the door closed, and whatever answer he may have had to give, his chance to say it was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Murdoc and Sloane in the elevator. 


	20. 3.7

"Nice work, love. You really -"

"Shut the fuck up," I snapped, cutting Murdoc off so viciously that he looked visibly taken aback.

For a moment there was only the sound of the lift rumbling upwards combined with the blood roaring in my ears, the vital liquid boiling cold until I was sure I was somehow dying a little more with every heartbeat. Staring blankly at the closed lift doors, I felt frozen in time and space, as if the world had ended outside and I had been trapped forever within that dirty and graffitied elevator box.

_There's nothing left; there's nothing left for me now._

I wondered what he was thinking of down there in the deep dark of his mind, left alone in that room. A dejected figure standing slumped in front of the closed doors, a mask staring up at him from the floor and only the hollow mechanical clanks from the lift shaft to keep him company. Would he remember running soaking wet through the sunlight with me, out across the gold-lit grass of the fairgrounds, and would he stand with the memory fading in the fluorescent light just as I did now?

_Don't forget me, don't forget please please please Stu I don't want to be your ghost._

My hands were twisting viciously in the material of my t-shirt, fisted over my heart as I tried to breathe past the swollen thickness of my throat. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Murdoc downing his bourbon in large gulps and I started to choke on the panic rising up hard and fast through all the worthless parts of me.

_I love him and it's not enough and I can't take it, I can't fucking take it someone make it stop make it stop make it stop --_

"I can't breathe," I whispered, lips wet with the tears that streamed endlessly down my cheeks.

_I don't want this version of events to be my life, I want everyone back or not at all but I can't do this I'm too small and weak and nothing I'm nothing—_

With a noise of alarm the green-skinned man went to catch me as I swayed, but I wrenched myself away from his grip, falling to my knees as my legs gave out beneath me. Coughing against the bile crawling acrid up my throat, I wheezed for air, fingers still clawing at my heart as if I could somehow tear it from my chest.

_Here's to drug addicts and cowards and angels and thieves and here's to the sentry who stands guard over them all yet can't even fucking breathe. Where's your brother, Sloane McLeod? Where's your lover, Sloane McLeod? No one is here to save you this time it's just you walking into that terrible darkness alone without a single other soul to bring you light -_ _is that what you wanted?_ _What did you_ **_want_ ** _?_

"Sloane, love."

The elevator arrived at the study, opening it's clunking doors to reveal the same sunlit room I had been in so recently, everything unchanged except for me as I felt Murdoc's hand close vicelike around mine.

"Stand up."

_A thief, a thief._

I looked up, feeling his palm burning into my skin and the searing heat spreading like fire down the length of my arm as we watched each other's faces; mine coated in tears, his set grim and mirthless. The wrong hand, the wrong touch, I was sure he knew it as he helped me to stand shakily, guiding me over to the high-backed armchair that sat awaiting me behind his desk.  
                   I sunk down into it, still gripping tightly to him until he had to gently pry my fingers loose. I watched his green skin disappearing from mine, remembering how 2D's hands had felt pressed between my thighs in a sudden dizzying flash.

_How did it happen that the only way I learnt to love was like it's gonna be the end of me; there's no before and after, just slowly falling into light until it starts to burn and_ _I get left begging_ _for a god I don't believe in to crawl into existence and tell me if it was worth it._

Murdoc's hazel eyes were on my knuckles, hand still held loosely in his. The pad of his thumb traced the bony ridges, touch searing across my skin as we both watched the movement.

_There'll be no need for_ _god, I know the answer: it was worth it until my body betrayed me, turning flush pink_ _as his_ _mouth open_ _ed_ _with wanting. The hum of bees, but no honey and when it's all been said and done there's no one left behind to tell me if it's okay to feel so afraid._

He met my gaze and immediately released my hand as if suddenly stung, dropping it deadweight onto my lap whilst I looked on detached.

_You should all remember_ _me like a sickness. Peach pit that was rotten the whole way through, festering beneath the velvet skin._

I wanted to say it like a goodbye, but he was already turning from me to shuffle through the papers on his desk. I pretended not to notice the way his hands were shaking when he stopped to take a swig from the bourbon bottle.

"I want to go home."

_To Him and Him and Her and You; except all the homes I built in other people have been deadlocked, the windows barred. I don't remember how to beg for sanctuary anymore._

Murdoc shot me a look over his shoulder at the sound of my broken whisper, before continuing to rummage through the papers as he replied lightly, "So that's how you want to end all this business, hmm? No third chances for face-ache, just you going home to forget us all?"

"I never forget anyone," I murmured, feeling fresh tears slip from my eyes as I tried to breathe through the dry and salty expanse of my throat.

"Why not stay then?" The green-skinned man asked, shoulders set as I watched him neaten the rustling stack of crumpled paper. Unable to answer at first, I looked away, clenching and unclenching my jaw as I saw in my mind's eye how 2D's pale and beautiful face had shattered under the misery I'd inflicted.

I knew exactly how much it would have hurt.

_Any eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth._

"Could you stay?" I asked, defensive as I faced him, "Can you even imagine, with that cynical heart of yours, the pain of loving someone who will never love you back?"

Murdoc turned to from his desk to look at me for a silent moment, gaze heavy as he finally replied, "I can."

"Then perhaps we finally understand one another, Murdoc Niccals."

The man watched me for a second longer before nodding slowly, his face unreadable as he murmured, "Perhaps."

I reached out and grabbed the bourbon bottle from his hand, bringing it up to my lips with the feeling of my own emptiness drowning out all other sensation. The amber liquid ran into my mouth, burning hot upon my tongue the exact way I remembered it, and I choked to swallow a gulp of it down whilst Murdoc looked on with only half-concealed concern.

"I haven't drunk this stuff since the last time I ruined my relationship with 2D," I told him distractedly, finishing the bottle in a careless swallow despite the feeling of it scalding the entire length of my throat, "So it seems fitting that we should have a toast with it for the five-year-anniversary remake."

Murdoc rolled his eyes, pulling open his desk drawer and removing a new bottle of the same brown liquor. He flicked the cap off, clinking the top against my bottle in a mock gesture of "cheers" before taking a swig, silent as we both stared off towards a distance neither of us could reach.  
                  Outside was a cloudless day, the sky bright and blue as the midday sun beat itself down upon the festering pink spread of the island. There was a lump in my throat as my gaze fell on the sea-plane bobbing alongside the supply boat at the jetty, aching to be back in the Whitehawk estate housing where I'd lived with Lou, to travel through time to before any of this had happened.

Beside me the green-skinned man shifted, tapping a long nail against the glass bottle in a rhythmless pattern as he seemingly waited for me to say something, although what it was I wasn't sure. When nothing was said his hands stilled once more, and I couldn't help but wonder why it was he didn't seem happier after having been proved right about 2D and I. Surely he should have felt better now that he'd made sure the both of us were just as lonely and miserable as him?

"What do you want from me, Sloane?" Murdoc finally asked, and I watched the light from the window reflect across his face as he refused to meet my gaze.

His question struck me as odd, a frown creasing my forehead as I tried to decipher his train-of-thought, but his expression remained forever unreadable. Sitting there in confusion, I could feel the slow-burn of the bourbon turning my stomach to cinders, coming up as a flush across my cheeks. It was as if with only the slightest provocation I'd catch fire, and the idea made me feel a numb calmness that slowed my panicked heart rate.

_I want you to take me by the hand again; I want to burn until I can't bear the pain any longer and turn to ashes that drift free through your fingers._

But I didn't say it, unable to utter the selfish words that offered themselves up to my lips as I instead shook my head violently to clear it from the alcoholic haze that was muddying my thoughts.

"I want you to take me home," I replied aloud, voice a rasp of dried tears and defeat. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever speak bravely again; it seemed all my words had been used up now.

_And for what, exactly? To have yet another person you love leave you?_

I pushed myself to my feet, managing to stand strong despite the bitter inner voice that had spoken with such loathing. I had always been good at that part; the rise after the fall. A girl racing through the dark, knocked sideways by cars and collapsing over chainlink fences yet getting up, always getting up. Dust and gravel scratched into my skin as I'd leapt to my feet to face Rem and Sticks, spitting red from my sharp-toothed smile. Sprinting through a carnival with the sunset a bloodbath fading from the sky behind me as I tried to reach the blue-haired boy in time, only to sink to my knees at the gates whilst I watched the tail-lights of his taxi disappear.

_You stood up that day and swore to yourself you'd wouldn't be so weak ever again, yet you never managed to rise past it._

I clenched my jaw, shaking my head viciously at the thought, but the inner voice was relentless as it spoke once more.

_You've been kneeling outside the fairground gates ever since, too scared to move on in case it happens again. You'll **never**  rise past it._

The thoughts were like knives as I tried to shove them from my mind, only managing to slice myself painfully open upon the terrible truth I could hear echoing within each word; that maybe, just maybe, 2D wasn't the only one who was too afraid to love.

The green-skinned man was watching the waves lap up and over the pink beach of trash beyond the window, unaware of my internal turmoil as he finally broke our mutual silence, "You know, for a second there I felt bad, listening to you two in the lift."

_Condescending cunt._

"Care to elaborate?" I heard myself snap as if from outside my own body, seemingly unable to control my temper as I felt a white hot flash of irritation charge through me.

"Not really, no, hehegheh" Murdoc sniggered, waving dismissively at my responding scowl.

"Then kindly fuck off."

_Don't pretend you're not secretly relieved that Murdoc forced your hand; you would have found your own way to ruin things if he hadn't._

I felt the panic rising back up, acidic and biting with self-hatred as I pressed my knuckles hard into my closed eyes. Stars prickled and jumped like static across the blackness from the pressure, white flashes in the dark. I could see 2D, the way his eyes had drawn me in like black holes devouring light just before he'd moved his mouth to mine, and I felt my heart wrench. Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut? I had pushed him even when I knew he was too sad, too scared, to be able to handle it, but why?

_Lou._

In my mind he was always as he had been before the heroin; rough and scrawny, but smiling wide as he told me some sort of fantastical story, weaving magic from the mundane and comedy from what seemed hopeless. Us against the world, together through thick and thin no matter what horrors we had to face. He had been the only person who had never given up on me, not even when I had given up on him, and his absence was an ache I didn't know if I could live with. I missed him, but 2D had been right; I'd been remembering him as someone who was a hero, someone who I didn't want to blame for anything, especially not our last moments together.

_He left too, for once just allow yourself to fucking admit it. Lou looked you in the face and decided you weren't worth more than the contents of a needle being plunged into his veins. Whether by his will or not, he chose his own self-interest over his love for you, just like your mother and Birdie and Stu._

Tears welled up and spilled from beneath my closed eyelids, soaking against my knuckles as I bit back a sob. I'd known he had failed me, had given in to addiction without struggle, and yet I'd still been blindsided by his final actions that terrible day.   
                     I'd wanted to blame everyone and anyone, had used my anger like a sword and shield with which to lash out at 2D when the person I'd really wanted to attack was myself. Drive the blade through my heart as punishment for something that wasn't even my fault; no, the blame rested with The Boogieman for it's cruel intervention, and finally with Lou, for being unable to choose life.

_Everyone will always leave, and I'll always be too cowardly to ask them to stay. So this time I'm cutting out the middle man; I'm leaving before I am left, I'm breaking myself apart before Stu can._

It hurt like a wound reopening, yet still felt better than the alternative. Wiping tear-wet knuckles surreptitiously on my thigh, I began to calm slightly, lungs no longer heaving raggedly for each breath.

"You seem too deep in thought to simply want to just leave," Murdoc's rasping voice probed suddenly into the silence, and I could feel him watching me as I was jerked from my reverie.

"I don't want to leave, but I have to."

Murdoc scoffed, tone derisive as he drawled, "Maybe you do have some sort of self-preservation after all."

For once I knew exactly what he meant, and I felt tears well up in my eyes as I tried to choke out a response that didn't sound bitter.

"I love him like it's gonna be the end of me," I murmured, more to myself than to Murdoc, staring at my hands as the words dripped from between my lips, "And I know there's some part of him that cares more than he's ever going to be willing to say, but I think that's exactly why it'll better for the both of us if I let him go."

"How so?"

I shrugged, swallowing past the lump in my throat as I said simply, "Because when he finally gets too scared and leaves again, I won't be able to face it. I'll drown, and he'll go down with me."

_The two of us, sinking all the way down there to the very bottom of everything and losing each other in the dark._

"Oh and that's certain is it? It's good to know we have a fortune teller in our midst," Murdoc sneered, waving a hand towards me airily like a mock-prophet as he continued, " _Unless Sloane McLeod leaves Plastic Beach, 2D will meet his death by water._  What a fantastic excuse for you to run far away."

I slapped the green hand from the air, tired of his contempt as I hissed, "I'm serious, Murdoc."

"Mmmm no, you're afraid and feebly looking for any excuse that makes you feel better about walking away," The green-skinned man drawled, slurring slightly as he finally set the bourbon bottle aside.

"So what? Surely you're not even surprised?" I snapped back, refusing to look at him as I fumed, "Congratulations, you were right about me from the moment we met; I'm pathetic and ugly and I'll only ever cause anyone pain."

I breathed deeply through my nose as I tried to calm myself, pulse racing beneath the confines of my skin until it felt like my entire body was humming. Leaning against the desk, I looked across at Murdoc with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to make his next snide remark. Instead he just shook his head gently, as if suddenly exhausted.

"Sloane, you know I don't really think all that about you, right?"

I felt confusion blooming within the angry chaos of my mind, my brows knitting together as I watched him avoid my gaze.

"But... you said...? And then this morning, you hated me so much..." I began, before trailing off as something stopped me; a strange feeling that crept up and over the hills of my consciousness.

_Did you ever think, Sloane McLeod, that perhaps you're far too willing to pick and choose when to take things at face value? Maybe that's why you never understand anyone, not even yourself._

"You want to know what I really think?" The green-skinned man asked quietly, rolling the base of the bourbon bottle around on the oaken desktop before catching my eye, straightening up a little as he addressed me once more, "That you're just a girl who is very far from home."

_I am, I really am._

"Then take me back to Crawley," I sighed, too tired to fight anymore, "Please."

For a moment I thought he might say "no" as I watched his lips begin to shape the word, but he instead merely nodded in defeat.

"Well before you go then, one thing," Murdoc said, lifting up a familiar piece of paper from his desk, a single droplet of dried brown blood staining through the white, "The little message you left me - thanks for defacing my very important diagram by the way - said you wounded The Boogieman's eye?"

I nodded, "Aye, it started bleeding everywhere."

He put the paper down, smiling softly to himself for a moment as he reread my added notes before his mouth flattened into a hard line once more. He lifted something else for me to see, green fingers stark on black card; the small note he had called "blackmail" yesterday. I took it from him, frowning as I read the brief message typewritten in red.

_Murdoc Niccals,_  
_A deal is the binding of your blood with your word._  
_We are coming for our payment._

It was unsigned and otherwise unmarked, but even I could guess it had been sent by The Boogieman as I handed it back with a prickle of unease, asking slowly, "So...? Just pay it?"

"I can't," Murdoc said grinning, "I don't have the payment."

"Aren't you supposed to be world famous or something?" I jibed, rolling my eyes up towards the ceiling, "Surely it can't be that hard to come up with the funds, how much do you need?"

"A hundred children's souls."

I whipped my head around to check if he was joking, and was shocked to see that his smile had faded, green face set grim with the severity of the situation.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

I bit my lip, frowning as I tried desperately to think of a solution. When none came, I heard my voice wavering as I asked tentatively, "Can you substitute the souls for something else?"

"Technically I could give him  _my_  soul instead, but I don't feel like it," Murdoc sniffed, flicking the black card carelessly back onto the desktop before adding with a mirthless laugh, "Plus, that then wouldn't solve the problem of The Black Clouds pirates who I owe millions."

I exhaled in a low whistle, rubbing a hand through the prickly stubble of my hair before flashing him a grin.

"Sounds like you're well and truly fucked then."

"Mmhegheh I suppose it would to a unimaginative little bird like yourself, however, thanks to your incremental insight I have a plan," Murdoc sniggered, all pride and self-satisfaction as he strutted over to where his Cyborg Noodle stood motionless by the lift.

"Oh yeah? And what plan is that? You're gonna wait for it to arrive and then try and mash it's other eye out?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched him clap a green hand smugly atop the little robot girl's shoulder.

"Don't be dim, Sloane," Murdoc sneered, before brightening once more as he continued, "No, we're going to wait until it arrives and then Noodle 2.0 over here is going to blow it's head clean off with her rifle."

_Jesus wept._

The green-skinned man turned his attention back to his minion, giving it a series of murmured instructions as I hovered by the desk, feeling hollow as my thoughts returned to 2D. Eyes falling heavily closed, memories of him played out across the black in a flash too fast to follow. Every smile, every frown, the shapes of his hands as they fidgeted, turned to fists, held mine. His dark gaze all sleepy and half-lidded, narrowed in anger, blown wide with fear. Him trying to smooth his hair back from his face in a Greaser's quiff, the blue locks always stubbornly shaking free, hanging messy over his forehead and sticking out and odd angles from his skull. The boy asleep beside me with skin pale in the grey morning light, or shining beneath a fluorescent bulb as he lay on his stomach to watch a movie. The sound of his snickering when laughing at one of his own silly jokes, at the world, at me. Everything I was walking away from, out of fear I'd lose him anyway. I wanted to pretend he'd broken my heart when he said he couldn't be what I wanted, but why lie?

It was enough to break your heart, just having known him at all.

_You're just like your brother, Sloane McLeod. The only difference is he chose to be addicted to self destruction that felt like ecstasy; you always opt for the kind that comes as an ache._

I thought of Lou, of all the things stolen from him by fate and his own foolish hands; the saddest of which had been a girl with long red hair and perpetually bare feet, their future stripped from them by his own inability to find her. Birdie, walking away down the trailer park driveway with it's golden pools of lamplight, telling me that sometimes love just wasn't enough. I couldn't help but wonder as I stood there, about to make the same decision, whether or not she regretted it now.

"The cyborg has gone to start up the helicopter, so you'll be on your way home within five minutes, Dorothy," Murdoc drawled from somewhere on the other side of the room, "Click your heels three times and all that."

Jolted from my thoughts, I couldn't help but laugh in surprise at his reference, looking over to see him standing over by the window with his thumbs hooked in his trouser pockets.

"I didn't take you for the kind of man who'd be a big fan of  _The Wizard of Oz_."

Murdoc glanced over, fixing me with a comically deadpan look as he intoned, "If you say one word about me bearing a resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West, I'll have you shot."

"Aww, Mudz," I fake-cooed, miming wiping a tear from my eye, "I guess you could say... it ain't easy being green?"

I flashed him a classic Lou McLeod shit-eating grin as he rolled his eyes back into his skull with an exasperated groan.

"You're such a little pest."

"Don't pretend you won't miss me," I fired back, feeling for a moment just a little less miserable as he only made a scoffing sound in response.

_I'll miss you too, you crusty radge cunt._

I paused, my thoughts returning once more to 2D as it dawned on me that this was it, this was me about to walk down the trailer park driveway and although I'd never know if she regretted it, I did know one thing; I would. Within my mind I couldn't fathom any sort of future where we didn't find each other again, where we didn't come back to each other somehow, just as we had on Plastic Beach.

_We are not finished, you and I._

I had to leave today, but if we were willing, we had our whole lives to find the place we promised each other; someplace by the seaside, with just him and me finally meeting at the right time for the final time. A place where I wasn't too young, a place where he wasn't too scared; it was waiting out there for us to find.

Grabbing the fountain pen off the desk, I rummaged around in the drawers until I found a notepad and tore off one of the pages. With a steady hand I began to write in my scratchy scrawl, a sense of calm spreading through my body with every careful movement.

_My Dearest Stu,_

_the trapeze act was wonderful._ _  
_

_Love always, Sloane McLeod_  
_Born 18th of June, 1985  
_ _Living in Crawley (most likely, but then again, when have I ever managed to keep a fixed address?)_

I took a deep breath as I folded it once, twice, then a third time for luck, holding it out to Murdoc as I joined him by the window. His hazel eyes flicked between the proffered paper and my face, a single eyebrow lifting in a wordless question.

"If 2D ever asks after me, if he ever... wants to try again, when all this is over," I managed to say despite how my voice cracked on the words, "Then please give him this so he can look me up."

The man nodded, a green hand lifting to take the folded note from mine and slip it carefully into his back pocket. My heart beat hard as I watched it disappear from sight, still hoping despite everything that it would one day find it's way to 2D.

"Shall we?" Murdoc murmured, gesturing towards the elevator, and I felt myself hesitate for a moment as the air seemed to turn to static.

All around the world seemed to hold it's breath, the invisible strings that tied everything so tenuously together vibrating into an almost audible hum. I would later look back and remember how I could feel them trembling, threatening to break apart and fall away, yet in that silent pause I did not heed the warning as I instead straightened my shoulders, as I held my head high.

"Let's go."

Into the elevator for the shaking ascent to the rooftop, hands curling and uncurling as we rose. Murdoc strangely silent, picking at the hem of his shirt with his face set carefully blank, and when I met his gaze he was quick to glance away. There was a soft bell sound as we arrived at the top floor of the Plastic Beach complex, before the doors opened to reveal a small shallow room that was furnished with only an almost empty coat stand and a set of stairs leading up and out to the roof. The sound of the helicopter blades warming up filtered down towards us as I flashed a nervous glance over to my companion.

Murdoc made an "after you" gesture with one green hand, and I swallowed back my trepidation as I stepped out from the elevator and into the sparse coatroom. Gusts of wind from above blew in down the staircase, and I shivered involuntarily at the sudden cold, hugging my bare arms to myself as the threadbare t-shirt I wore did nothing to shield me from the draught.

With a sigh the green-skinned man strode past me, grabbing the single jacket that was hanging from the coat stand and passing it to me with a grunt.

"Put that on; it'll be much colder up in the air."

My fingers closed around the army green material, mouth opening to thank him yet never granted the opportunity as he continued walking up the stairs and out of sight. I couldn't help but feel slightly confused by his ever-erratic behaviour as I pulled the bomber jacket on and zipped it up. It was oversized on my small frame, the sleeves hanging down over my hands as I popped up the collar against the draughty air.

Following after him, I hurried up the stairs and stepped out onto the windswept rooftop of the Gorillaz trash mansion, momentarily blinded by the bright midday sun. As the spots across my vision cleared I could see Murdoc conferring with Noodle just a few meters away, the helicopter sitting ready and waiting with it's large propeller slicing through the air in noisy circles. The small clone-child was nodding robotically at some instruction he was giving, her black choppy fringe bobbing with each movement.  
                   I couldn't help but frown as I watched them together, wondering at how it was that Murdoc could handle interacting with the cyborg replacement of his former bandmate when 2D couldn't. 2D had said it made him feel sick that Murdoc would have ever created it in the first place; that it was undeniable proof of how callously heartless he truly was. As I watched him speak to it however, green face blank and empty, I finally realised that 2D was both right and wrong. It was a replacement, yes, but it hadn't been made because Murdoc hadn't cared about the real Noodle; it had been made because he cared too much. It was a stand-in so he didn't have to feel the pain of mourning what he'd lost, so he didn't have to come to terms with her absence, even though he clearly couldn't fool himself well enough to see the robot he'd created as anything more than an empty shell wearing her face.

_2D, Murdoc and I; we all have ghosts. I guess the difference is that he built his a body._

It was a cop-out in the end, being allowed to miss something tangible. It meant he would never have to ache for even just the mere sight of them. He'd never have to wake up one day on an island in the middle of the ocean and know the closest thing to seeing the person he'd lost again was if he collapsed into dreams, was if he razored off his own hair and hoped that perhaps one day his reflection would become them in some trick of the light.

_I miss you, Lou, I always will. It hurts like hell, but I'd rather have it hurt than try to fill the absence of you with silicon masks and hardware._

The green-skinned man finished speaking to the cyborg and waved me over, rolling his eyes at the way the too-long sleeves of the borrowed jacket flopped around as I hurried over to him. Without a word he grabbed my arm, rolling each of the cuffs up to my wrist in turn before absentmindedly reaching up to adjust the lopsided collar.

"Thanks dad," I jibed, grinning at him when he looked for a moment genuinely mortified at the idea.

"You need some serious psychotherapy if you think I am in any way posturing to be your father figure, love," he drawled, waving me away irritably as I laughed, shaking my head.

"I'm joking, ya dumb radge," I said with a smirk, before sobering as I added, "You're my friend."

Even as I said it I realised it was true, despite how much it shouldn't have made sense. Murdoc blinked, visibly processing my words for a second before answering in a dismissive snigger.

"You're definitely going to need that psychotherapy then, hngehehheh."

I scoffed at his pretend-nonchalance, nodding ruefully as I looked over to where the helicopter was awaiting me as I responded, "Doubtless; between losing my brother then leaving 2D and you, Murdoc Niccals, I'm going to need all the counselling I can fucking get."

_And that's only if I don't get located and murdered by an overly paranoid drug-lord first._

The smile melted from my face as I thought of the threat of James DeWitt waiting for me once I returned to England, a thread of anxiety tugging at my gut. I hadn't been trying to be cruel when I told 2D I'd have to go back and offer the dangerous man my life.

_If I'm lucky he'll kill me quickly. I'd rather die than work another day for him._

I was thinking of what tortures DeWitt might put me through once he found me as Murdoc shoved his hand into the front right pocket of his trousers, pulling out a crumpled scrap of paper from inside. He seemed suddenly unsure as he looked down at it, brows knitting together in a momentary frown before he held it out to me.

"Well just before you go then, I... I found that girl. Only took a bit of google-searching."

_Huh?_

"Well an hour of google-searching actually; it's harder to stalk people when you've only got their first name and past-affiliates to go on."

When I didn't immediately reach for the paper, he sighed and shoved it unceremoniously into my jittering hands. My mouth went dry as I realised who he meant, unable to speak as I gaped in shock at his earnest green face. 

"She's in Brighton, if you ever want to find her."

_Birdie._

I held the folded piece of paper as carefully as I would eggshell, staring down at it with nerves fluttering through my bloodstream. I swallowed, feeling my own cowardice rise up to strangle me as I murmured, "I'm sure she barely remembers me."

Murdoc shook his head, rolling his eyes up at the clear blue sky above us before he answered, his voice tired as I'd never heard it before.

"You're not exactly forgettable."

I found myself unable to respond as he looked at me with a sadness I couldn't quite place, in that moment completely unguarded as he watched me raise my hand in silent farewell. He lifted a green hand of his own, but to my surprise touched it to my temple, lips parting to speak.

"Good luck, Sloane McLeod, to you and all your demons in there."

Then he was stepping back, smiling as if laughing at some private joke no one else yet understood but him, and the cyborg girl was shoving me towards the helicopter impatiently.

_They're not demons; they're ghosts, and I am done collecting them._

I ducked past the much smaller girl, tired of all my goodbyes never being on my own terms, exhausted by all my regrets. The green-skinned man stood unsure and hunched as I ran to wrap my arms tight around his ribs in a proper goodbye. He huffed in surprise, rocking back just a little before he froze, arms held out from his sides as I only held him tighter. I wasn't sure he'd ever been so willingly embraced before, and I grinned with tears in my eyes when he finally, tentatively, let his arms curl around me to hug me back.

"Go on then," He grunted, clearing his throat as he shook me off, "Don't forget to shut your face on the way out."

I sniffed, knuckling my blurry eyes roughly as I stepped back. The cyborg Noodle snatched her chance to grab my arm from behind and yank me towards the awaiting helicopter, with me stumbling to follow as I called back to Murdoc over the sound of the blades chopping through the air above us.

"A cold uncaring asshole to the end then, Mudz?"

He grinned, all crooked teeth as he waved me away.

"Sloane love, the day you catch me being anything otherwise will be the day I bloody well roll over and die."


	21. 3.8

The ocean was a deep and rolling blue carpet across the surface of the world as the cyborg child piloted us high above it. It had been ten minutes since the final fading view of the pink island had disappeared from the horizon-line behind us, and I couldn't feel anything but loneliness as I tried to swallow back the thick and bitter sadness threatening to block my throat. All attempts at trying to elicit conversation from my companion had proved fruitless as I'd first tried to make small talk and then had dissolved into confessing the confusing array of emotions tugging for control of my mind.

"- and I guess it just comes down to the fact that I pretend to be brave but I'm not," I babbled at her, biting my nails to the quick as I stared out the cockpit window at the endless navy waves ahead, "Lou had all the bravery between us; without him I don't know if I even have the courage to live."

_Without him I don't even know who I am. Without any of them I don't know who I am._

Cyborg Noodle continued piloting the aircraft without so much as a flicker of acknowledgement that I had spoken, and I sighed, feeling frustrated tears welling up hot in my eyes as I wished not for the first time that Murdoc had accompanied us on the flight. I could have put up with any amount of drawling insults and dry sarcasm if it had meant having someone to talk to. My mind was a chaos of hindsight and heartache, my inner voices of self loathing and self protection arguing nonstop until it felt as if the heat of their debate would drive me insane.

I bit my lip as I looked across at my sole companion, tracing the long barrel of the rifle strapped to her back before flicking my gaze over her utility vest and combat attire. She was functional and not much more; the bare bones of a means to an end.

"I suppose it makes sense that it had to be you that took me home," I mumbled into the wind, studying her youthful profile, "We're the same."

_A sentry is just a soldier after all._

"We're both just following a set of instructions handed down by the men who made us."

_Murdoc Niccals made the cyborg girl, but who made you, Sloane McLeod? Your brother? DeWitt? Stu?_

I didn't know anymore, hugging my knees to my chest as I watched the other girl ignore me. Her black hair was flapping wildly in the draught, flicking across her vision sporadically until one of her small silicon hands lifted to irritably tuck it back under the communications headset she wore.  
                  At the so oddly human gesture I jolted, sitting up a little straighter whilst I studied her intently. The small girl shifted in her seat, as if aware she was being watched, but made no other movements as she returned to her stock-still piloting.

Left to my thoughts once more, I tried to forget the cyborg beside me, waving away the ghost of a younger self that had stepped into the corner of my vision. The Sloane of the past was the one who'd known how to read people, who'd understood intention.   
                  Until Stu. He'd blindsided me that first day, stepping into my path out of nowhere and leaving me unsure ever since. I'd tried so hard to read his intentions yet always ended up only further confused, still walking down the dark hallway with the rug constantly yanked out from under my feet. That night back in Eastbourne I thought he'd become my friend, only the next morning to discover him acting as nonchalant as ever. I'd thought he'd wanted me, yet he had made it clear he could never see me in that light. Now even after all this time I'd still been a fool today and imagined, just for a moment, that he loved me.

_But darling, he **did** become your friend in the end. He  **did**  want you._

The quiet voice which spoke out within the bleakness of my mind made my stomach twist as if I had been run through with a knife, my hands flying to cover some imagined puncture wound as I shook my head viciously at the thought. 

_Perhaps if you hadn't become so good at second-guessing yourself, you'd have been able to act quicker when you first smelt gas in the apartment when The Boogieman came for you. Perhaps you could have saved Lou in time._

Gritting my teeth at the condescending inner critique, my vision blurred, trembling with a film of salty tears that I tried to blink quickly away. Looking for some sort of distraction, I picked at the loose threading around a hand-sewn patch on Murdoc's jacket, thinking instead of my last moments with the grouchy green man, of his final gift for me. Sliding a single cautious finger into the pocket of my jeans, I traced the folded edge of the note I'd been given, wondering where Birdie was in the world.

_Did she know? The moment Lou's heart stopped beating; did she feel it?_

I turned my face away from the cyborg girl to quickly wipe away the tears that fell down my cheeks, heart shredding itself within my chest. Unsure as to why I felt embarrassed about crying in front of a robotic entity, and I stared out the open passenger side doorway, focusing my tear-blurry gaze on a set of two dots curving into view from afar. For a moment I thought they were a pair of seabirds before I realised they were growing much too large as they approached.

"I think this might be the first time I've seen anything in the sky other than clouds since coming to the island," I commented to Cyborg Noodle, feeling the need to break the silence despite her clear lack of interest in conversation. Flicking a crooked finger at what I could now see were two aeroplanes, I felt the beginnings of a frown spreading over my face as I continued, "Did Murdoc request supplies to be flown into the island or something?"

The twin jets had straightened from their curved path to be flying directly towards us, and I reached to point them out to the girl beside me exactly as she herself saw them through the windscreen. Her reaction was immediate; one hand white-knuckling on the controls and the other reaching for the rifle strapped to her back, ripping it from it's holster and leaning to aim it out the pilot-side doorway.

"Wait- !" I cried in sudden alarm, my arm flashing out to try and pull her back in vain as she fired, the gun kicking back in her tiny hands.

With my interference the bullet missed, the two planes continuing unscathed in their fast approach towards us as the Cyborg Noodle went to re-aim and then seemed to think better of it; holstering the rifle with lightning quick reflexes before grabbing the controls once more.  
The world tilted dizzyingly as the helicopter suddenly banked right, a volley of shots firing from one of the planes narrowly missing us as they whizzed past in a staccato. I whipped my head to follow the sound in fright, only to see the ocean swirling below us as the cyborg girl continued the helicopter's turn, spinning us to face back from where we came as the fighter jets passed overhead.

"What the fuck was that?" I yelled out in panic to Cyborg Noodle, voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and helicopter blades.

The girl didn't answer, merely pressing a series of buttons rapidly as she flew us in pursuit of the two planes which were already receding into the distance. I watched in a confused helplessness as her slim silicon fingers punched a repeated series of clicks into the radio transmitter attached to the control panel, a morse code message I couldn't hope to translate.

"They didn't even stick around to attack us... like they were in a hurry to be somewhere else," I prompted the cyborg child, trying in vain to illicit any attempt at return communication from her. Her face was devoid of any indication that she'd even registered my words, and I scowled as I realised I would get no explanation from my ever-silent companion.

_Figure it out yourself then, Sloane McLeod; stop playing dumb and expecting everyone else to spell things out for you._

I scowled even harder, picking at the loose thread blowing wildly in the wind once more whilst grudgingly comprising a mental map of everything I knew about the situation I was in. It started with an image of 2D, flashing up within the darkness of my mind like a neon light before I flinched and shoved him aside. Throat feeling thick, I inhaled deeply through my nose, closing my eyes as if to block out the memory of the way his black eyes had shone with unshed tears the last time I'd looked into them.

_Focus. You used to be good at this._

In my mind's eye I sketched the island, annotating it with notes like the ones on Murdoc's badly drawn diagram of The Boogieman. The facts it seemed, were limited, shreds of information collected from my convoluted conversations with Murdoc and 2D. An island made of trash and built from dodgy deals, a private hideaway from The Black Clouds pirates who were owed millions by the green-skinned conman. A demon asking for it's payment of children's souls, now denied compensation twice for it's kidnapping of both 2D and I, leaving a black calling card for Murdoc warning him that it was coming to collect.

 _No it said something else... fuck, what did it say again? "_ **_We_ ** _are coming for our payment."_

My eyes opened wide as I realised what I had so blindly missed, sitting up in my seat with my lips parting in shock. 

_The Boogieman and The Black Clouds have joined forces; those were the pirates' war planes on the way to Plastic Beach._

Beside me Cyborg Noodle was listening intently to an answering transmission coming in through her headset, and I leaned my ear against hers to try and listen in. Murdoc's voice was coming garbled through the headphone speaker, the wind snatching away fragments of phrasing so that it was hard to tell exactly what he was instructing the cyborg to do.

"... drop the girl off................ then............................... I can keep it talking........ alright?"

_No. It'll take too long to reach land; she'll never make it back in time._

Without thinking, I yanked the headset off the smaller girl's ears, dropping it onto the helicopter floor whilst her head whipped around owlishly to stare at me. The helicopter halted in it's forward trajectory, hovering above the indigo waves as the two of us faced each other off. With a gulp of dread I flicked my gaze between her lifeless brown eyes and the terrifying sight of her fingers curled tight around the barrel of the rifle strapped to her back, ready to pull it from it's holster.

"Noodle, we need to return to Plastic Beach immediately."

My voice was steady and firm despite the panic humming beneath the surface of my skin, eyes wide as I looked into hers imploringly, begging for her clockwork mind to understand. The girl blinked, frozen in place as her programming tried to compute with the conflicting order. Swallowing against the dryness of my mouth, I tried again, forcing my tone into one of authority.

"You were created to be Murdoc Niccal's butler and bodyguard, aye?"

The cyborg child nodded jerkily.

"Then you'll be failing to fulfil your purpose unless you return to protect him immediately," I said simply, feeling my jaw set as we stared each other down.

_Is there even the ghost of a person in there? Does it even know the difference between life and death?_

I felt my hope begin to falter, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach as Cyborg Noodle continued to blink, a whirring sound coming from beneath her skull. Then, finally, she moved. I almost cried with relief as the helicopter continued in it's high speed pursuit of the planes that had disappeared in the direction of the trash island, the girl's hands returning to the controls and leaving her rifle safely in it's holster across her back.  
  


My heart beat hard against the wall of my chest the entire trip back, hoping beyond hope that we wouldn't arrive to a bloodbath as the luridly pink island slowly came into view, a large aircraft carrier ship visible about two hundred meters out from the landmass. The cyborg girl gave it a wide berth as we piloted past it, the vessel devoid of any signs of life onboard despite the set of four all-too familiar planes that were sitting stationary atop the steel decking. Large lengths of tubing were connected to two of them, thick and black like oversized serpents across the desolate surface of the ship.

_So that's what they were too rushed to attack us properly for; they had to make it back to their base to refuel._

We passed safely by without any visible response from the large metal ship, the imposing craft sitting menacingly still upon the choppy waves. The pink island in contrast looked like a sitting duck as we neared it, my hands curling and uncurling in nervous fists as the scent of the rotting garbage began to cloud the air more thickly with every passing second.

The beach in sight, I squinted at the group of tiny figures that were gathered by the wharf, coming slowly into detail as the helicopter drew closer. Luggage sat piled on the wooden jetty waiting to be loaded into the supply boat, yet no one was moving as they shuffled and looked over in agitation at the large ship floating silently offshore. Their faces turned upwards towards us as Cyborg Noodle piloted the helicopter in a beeline for the helipad atop the Plastic Beach complex, and it was with a jolt that I recognised them as the few remaining collaborators that had been staying at the island. I craned my neck to see if there was a blue-haired head among any of the upturned faces but saw no flash of the familiar azure hue before the helicopter moved over them and onward to the waiting rooftop.

_Murdoc must have been evacuating the island; just a little too late it seems._

Whatever other worried thoughts I might have had for the people left stranded on the pink beach were immediately forgotten as I caught sight of the two figures standing at opposite ends of the roof. One was hunched and defensive with his hands in his pockets, green skin a bright pea-like colour in the warm afternoon light. The other was a shadowed pillar of fumes, coalescing even as I watched into something I remembered from each and every one of my nightmares.  
                       Red glass lenses set into the black of it's mask; the left glowing eye socket whole and unbroken no more. With gloved hands showing no signs of the punctures it's claws had made in the tips of each finger, I watched with my mouth devoid of moisture as it spread out it's long arms, it's rubbery cloak seeming to swallow up the light as it fanned out in the wind.

_The Boogieman._

I jolted as the helicopter shuddered and landed in a hard bump against the rooftop, the robot child not bothering to power down the aircraft as she unclipped her seatbelt and leapt from the open side door with her rifle already held between both her dainty hands. In a dazed moment I watched her step to Murdoc's side, the green-skinned man grinning widely at her arrival before turning to fix the demonic creature with a triumphant sneer.

Across the ten meter span between them, the demon lifted it's hand, pointing accusingly with one gloved finger. I felt it as if it pierced the air between us, running a straight line to the heart jumping rabbit-like within my chest.

_Put on your Brave Face._

Snapping to attention, the hurried heartbeat turned to war drums as I unclipped my seatbelt and stood, kicking the dropped headset out of my way as I stepped over to the side door. The headphones bounced and landed on the metal rooftop with a clatter, causing Murdoc to whip his head around in confusion at the sound.   
                     The self-satisfied smirk he had been taunting The Boogieman with at Cyborg Noodle's arrival faded into open-mouthed shock as I stepped down off the aircraft behind them, but I barely so much as spared him a glance before I returned my attention to the black-cloaked creature. Eyes narrowed into slits and vision clouding over with scarlet, I felt my lips peel back in a wordless snarl.

_You laughed whilst Lou lay dying, you stole me away from his corpse._

My hatred for the creature had no parallel, my hands in fists as I stepped towards it with no thought for self-preservation, no hopes for survival.

"Sloane! What in Satan's name are you doing here?" Murdoc was yelling over the wind in exasperation, gesturing angrily to his cyborg as he demanded, "Why did you come back with her?? It's not safe-"

Whatever he was going to say was abruptly cut off as I brushed past him, lunging for The Boogieman with the world blurring red and bloodthirsty. The demon seethed and reared up, talons flashing as they unsheathed though the rubbery material of it's gloves.  
                   It's first swipe missed me, claws raking through the air mere inches from my head as I ducked in a moment of pure instinct. An avenging angel, I flung my entire body at the hulking black figure formed of smog, teeth bared and crooked fingers curled into hooks.

 _I'm gonna shred_ **_your_ ** _skin and see how you like it, cunt._

We collided, my hands delving deep into the billowing folds of it's cloak until they dug into the hard and unyielding form beneath. A cloud of vapour puffed out from the impact, making my head spin as I gagged at the all-too familiar rotten smell of the creature's fume. Flinching from the scent, an onslaught of terrible memories flooded all sense of self as I was suddenly confronted with the visceral image of my blood splattering the floor of the Crawley apartment, of Lou lying blue and breathless on the festering mattress.

_No please No NO -_

With a wordless gasp I recoiled, grip loosening even as The Boogieman wheezed in what sounded like some kind of sadistic laugh, it's hands lifting to close tightly around my neck.

**BANG.**

The sound of the gunshot ripped through the panic of my mind, snapping everything back into focus as I felt the creature flinch. It had barely had time to turn it's gas mask snout towards the large bullet hole punched through it's rubbery cape before there was the sound of Cyborg Noodle loading the next shot.

**BANG.**

I shrieked breathlessly as the second bullet whizzed loudly past my head, hitting The Boogieman's elbow with the sound of bone shattering. One of the two hands pressed hard around my throat fell away, the creature rearing back with a loud hiss as ichor sprayed brown and putrid from it's wounded arm. I ragdolled with the movement, scratching uselessly at the gloved fingers holding me airborne whilst trying not to vomit at the sight of the mangled limb hanging half hewn from it's body. Gas swirled out from the rent made in the fabric of it's sleeve, opaquely green as it condensed into a mist around the two of us.

Murdoc was shouting something about learning to bloody aim at the cyborg girl, his words barely audible over the helicopter blades chopping through the air above us, then another shot rang out across the rooftop.

**BANG.**

Viscous umber-coloured fluid burst into the air, splattering across my face and down the front of my jacket as the third bullet tore straight through The Boogieman's other arm and sickeningly split the limb in two. I slammed back to the ground, legs collapsing out from beneath me as the creature made a sound like a high-pitched hiss of air escaping, the closest thing to a scream I could imagine it was capable of creating. Smog engulfed it's body, it's physical form wavering back into reeking gas whilst the screaming sound continued to painfully fill the air. It's disembodied hand jerked and spasmed with dying nerve reflexes around my neck, and I retched involuntarily as I ripped the thing from me.

"Ohhh dear, are you alright there Sloane?" Murdoc drawled calmly as I covered my mouth in an effort to keep the bile rising up my throat at bay, "I'd lend you a hand, but it seems our demon friend  _already has_ , hughuheuhuh."

I could hear him him trying to stifle his guffawing laugh as I turned to shoot him a mutinous look, however any response I was going to make was silenced when a shadow fell over me. Cold trepidation rippled down my spine in an icy wave as I watched Murdoc's self-satisfied smirk fade into shocked horror, his hand flashing out to prod urgently at the cyborg girl whilst she robotically reloaded her rifle. I didn't even have time to turn my head before I felt rubbery gloved fingers curl around the back of my collar, yanking me viciously off my feet once more. As I dangled in the creatures grip, I blindly hit out at the somehow suddenly intact arms, my stomach sinking sickeningly as I realised it's limbs had regenerated completely.

_Of course... That's why Murdoc hadn't known about it's cut eye before I told him; he hadn't seen it. The fucking thing heals itself._

"Hey Murdoc?" I called, trying to keep my voice light and even despite The Boogieman's rancid breath puffing moist against the back of my neck, "Can you perhaps  _pay the demon now??_ "

At my elevated tone the green-skinned man cringed, my words leaving only tense silence save for the blades of the helicopter slicing through the air above us. A stalemate heartbeat passed, then the cyborg lifted her rifle to level it at The Boogieman and fired.

**BANG.**

Too slow, too slow. The creature sidestepped, my body swinging helplessly in it's grip before it responded in kind. My mouth became a desert parched of all moisture as I struggled, feeling it retract it's arm and knowing what came next.

_NO NO NO NO NO NO -_

With inhuman strength it swung forward, flinging me bodily out and over to the edge of the roof. For a moment the world seemed to pause as I felt myself be released from it's grip, eyes widening whilst the open sky reached out to take me. The distant sound of Murdoc yelling my name, then gravity taking hold of my ragdoll form and pulling me down against edge the rooftop in a dizzy aching thud. Skull smashing against the unyielding ground hard enough to see stars whilst the momentum made my body roll, carrying me in a bundle of flailing limbs and a sharp cry of terror as I sailed over the precipice, hands scrabbling to grab the edge only to catch at empty air.   
                   Grey eyes flinching closed, not wanting to see the plastic beach rise up to meet me. Mouth gaping open in a soundless scream.

Then a silicon hand clamped around my slim wrist, jerking me from my descent. The joint in my elbow cracked as my entire bodyweight wrenched to a stop, and I gasped in a mixture of pain and disbelief as I found myself looking into the expressionless face of the cyborg. The wind was blowing her fringe from her eyes, and I could see my own pale and shocked face reflected in the brown of her iris.

"... d-did I ever tell you that you're my favourite cyborg I've ever met?" I stuttered, grinning dazedly up at her impassive face whilst she merely blinked in response.

The cyborg child began to help pull me up, the soles of my bare feet grazing painfully as I tried to find purchase on the rough side of the building. My heart was beating too fast, racing like the pulse of a rabbit, yet a warm and bubbling hysteria began to spread golden through my limbs as I managed to grip onto the edge of the building with my free hand.

Behind the legs of Cyborg Noodle, I saw no trace of The Boogieman save for a stray wisp of green smog that trailed off the other side of the roof, already dissipating in the ocean breeze. Murdoc stood with his back to us, shading his eyes from the sun with one green had as he looked out towards a set of four dots approaching fast along the horizon. For a moment I paused, squinting at them even as the cyborg tugged insistently on my wrist, before I felt my eyes widen as I realised exactly what they were.

_The Dark Clouds' war planes._

"Murdoc!" I yelled out in sudden panic, renewing my struggle to pull myself up as I cried out my warning much too late, "They're -"

**BRATATATATATATATATATATAT**

A line of quick-fire shots from one of the planes threw sparks as they struck down against the metal roof of the plastic beach complex, missing Murdoc by a meter as he leapt out of the way. I almost let go of the rooftop as two of the bullets whizzed over my head, ducking needlessly on instinct.

The droning of their engines began to fill the air as they flew closer, moving at a speed too fast to allow us time to recover before all three jets opened fire as they passed overhead, ripping up the rooftop with another violent spray. Murdoc dived down the stairs to the safety of the room below whilst I could only flinch again in the hope that they wouldn't hit me, craning my neck to catch sight of them as they flashed through the sky above.

Taking my chance, I had begun to heave myself up and onto the roof once more when something black dripped onto my hand, stark against the pale skin. I stared confusedly at it shining iridescent in the sunlight for a dull moment before I looked up at the cyborg girl who had stilled in her efforts to help me back up onto the roof.  
                   Her usually expressionless face was spasming, a viscous oil-like substance dribbling down her delicate chin and dripping onto me as I traced the liquid to it's source; a large bullet hole punched straight through the left side of her forehead. Another bullet had skimmed the inner edge of her exposed thigh, and sheeny metal and wires could be seen sparking within the hole left behind.

"Noodle?" I whispered, watching in horror as her entire body began to shake.

The damage to her internal circuits had left her seemingly unable to operate as she began emitting a fizzing sound, black blood gushing from the wound as she fell forward, her brown eyes meeting mine as her hand fell from my wrist and she tumbled over me into the abyss beyond.

"NOODLE!"

I tried to grab for her as she fell past me but only managed to snatch at empty air, watching on helplessly as she plummeted, showering sparks like the glowing trail of a comet. I cringed and closed my eyes to not see her collide with the beach below, arms aching as I clung to the side of the building and tried not to think about whether or not I heard the thud.

_You don't have time to get sentimental; get your ass back up onto that rooftop or follow the poor robot girl and die facedown in pink-painted trash. It's your choice, Sloane McLeod._

Overhead the planes were circling back around for another volley of shots whilst I strained with every measly muscle in my body to hoist my chest up and over the edge of the roof, almost crying with relief when I laid my bloodstained bust against the sun-warmed metal. I slithered the rest of the way atop before standing shakily, sparing only a single glance for the fast-approaching planes before sprinting for the stairwell that would lead me to safety.

**BRATATATATATATATAT -**

They opened fire just as I dove for the opening, falling headfirst down into the shallow room below and scrambling to get away from their view as I heard the bullets raining down on the roof above. I was relieved to see Murdoc standing unscathed and waiting for the elevator, pressing and repressing the "down" button with a blatant kind of panic I hadn't seen him portray before. His hazel eyes were blown wide and flicking between the ceiling and the closed elevator doors, then finally settling on my face when he saw me crouching by the coat rack, a look of serenity passing over his features.

"Sloane! So good of you to join me," He drawled, before wiping his nose on his sleeve surreptitiously and adding in a careless grunt, "Where's the cyborg?"

I clenched my jaw at his bravado, trying to be gentle with my words as I murmured, "They gunned her down... I tried to grab her in time but she fell over the edge. I'm sorry, Murdoc."

The green-skinned man looked away with a soft "oh" sound, turning his back to me as he faced the elevator panel once more. His slightly crooked pointer finger continued to stab at the "down" button, his shoulders hunching as I watched him from the other side of the room, waiting for an answer he seemingly couldn't find the words for.

"Murdoc?"

Slowly, I approached him, hand held out as if I were going to touch the defensive curve of his shoulder, but I never got the chance as the lift finally rumbled up to our level. The doors opened with a soft chime, the man stepping inside and away from any consolatory gesture I could have made. I swallowed and followed after him, panic rippling through me as I heard one of the planes swoop low overhead. Murdoc jabbed the button for the Ground Floor as the roar of it's engine echoed through the shallow room, the doors beginning to close just as the roof of the room we had been standing in just moments ago imploded in a swirl of fire and molten metal.

Quicker than I could think, a green hand knocked me back from the wave of heat, a high pitched gasp moving from my lips as I hit the shaking elevator wall. We only saw a glimpse of the explosion before the doors snapped completely shut, the lift descending whilst another projectile from the planes landed above, sending a shockwave that chased us down the shaft. The lift box shuddered and jerked, knocking me off my feet to land painfully on the quaking floor.

_They're bombing the building. They're actually bombing the fucking building._

"For the love of sweet Satan, they're going to bring the entire island down if they keep that up," Murdoc spat angrily, still not looking at me as he braced himself against the wall.

I glared up at him from my position on the floor, hands and knees absorbing the vibrations through the metal as we rumbled downwards towards the safety of the earth. Something about his lack of comment on the cyborg Noodle's death made my skin prickle, fingers curling to fists as I watched him pick dirt out from under his nails without a shred of guilt for what he'd caused.

"Why couldn't you have just fucking paid the demon and his trigger-happy pirate friends?" I growled, only earning myself a savage scowl. It was the first time he'd made eye-contact with me since the news of Noodle, and his hazel gaze glowed with wrathful malice.

"Newsflash, love: I'm not giving my soul to a failed fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse," He sneered, narrowing his eyes to slits as he glowered down at me, "Nor am I giving a single cent to those dimwit terrorists, and no one in the world will convince me otherwise.  _Especially_  not a snivelling little bald girl whose only hobby seems to be putting herself needlessly in harms way and running away from her problems."

I felt my lips part slightly in genuine hurt, shock rippling through my body as I looked up into his cruelly twisted green features. Silence echoed out from his words, no answer managing to crawl it's way to my open mouth until the elevator finally sunk to a shuddering stop, it's chime like the bell at the end of a boxing match.

"You were the one who put every person on this island needlessly in harms way, Murdoc," I murmured, pushing myself to my feet as the doors creaked slowly open. I looked at him, still hunched defensively despite all his disinterested nail checking and derisive jeering, and felt nothing but that strange disappointment he always seemed to make me feel as I finished quietly, "And you're wrong by the way."

His eyes were alight as they met mine once more, and I understood for the first time exactly why 2D thought he was a monster as he bared his crooked teeth in a glittering smirk.

"Wrong about what exactly?"

Without letting my gaze slip from his I stepped through the elevator doors and into the foyer waiting beyond, trash still piled high on all sides of the reeking room. Beyond was a bright afternoon, hazy with the droning of the plane engines and studded with the sound of gunfire and screams. I couldn't bring myself to look at the carnage that lay outside, instead staring openly at the infinitely lonely lines of Murdoc's face, at the mocking curl of his lips.

_About everyone. About me._

I couldn't say it, looking past all his bravado to the pain and fear written suddenly so clearly in those narrowed eyes. The masks were still on, each one thick and ugly, but in that moment I saw past them to exactly what it was I had missed all along. Memories flickered back to life, scratched footage playing across a projection screen in the slowly brightening dark; Murdoc kneeling at my feet, fingers gentle around my wrists as he pulled my hands from my face and told me he couldn't watch me cry, as he pressed them to my ribs and stitched puckered skin back together. Helping me to stand, hand stroking across my knuckles, hazel eyes flicking down to my lips. Him downing a bottle of wine as I told him I loved 2D, his eyes abnormally cruel as he stared into mine and told me my feelings were wrong. The two of us standing frozen a few days ago in this very room, his hand raised to slap me in retribution for head-butting him yet unable to follow through with the punishment; his fist flying through the air only to stop dead in it's tracks the moment I stepped between him and the blue-haired man.   
                   The way his heart had hammered against my shoulder when he'd pulled me back to him in the elevator, urgently beginning to tell me something just before I'd cut him off, just before I'd told 2D I loved him. 

_I wonder what he might have said, if I had taken the time to let him speak._

I sighed ruefully, unzipping his bloodstained jacket and slipping it from my small frame to hold out to him just as a bomb landed nearby, shaking the building as it detonated. We both flinched, looking around wildly in case the roof was above to cave in, but as the tremor passed everything remained intact.   
                     With my heart twisting guiltily in my chest I gently flapped the jacket in a renewed attempt of returning it to him. My mouth tasted bitter and dry as he reached to take it, mismatched eyes flashing with a brief look of hurt that left me feeling rotten to the core. Turning away, I strode towards the pink battlefield beyond the dimly lit lobby, hands hanging empty and limp at my sides as I paused in the doorway. A volley of gunshots sounded distantly, the noise of shattering glass ringing out across the island as the warplanes laid waste to every window in the building above us.

Murdoc shifted behind me, making a small coughing sound like he was trying to clear his throat without me knowing. I found I couldn't turn to face him just yet, paralysed as I stared down at my pale hands and tried to swallow the realisation of all the damage I had done with them. 

_How's it all gonna end? With me standing in the wreckage of everyone's lives, still asking why I'm alone?_

Folded in my pocket was a piece of paper with the name and number of a girl I'd never see again.

Somewhere on the island was a man with eyes blacker than the night sky, his memories of my skin pressed to his already fading from the world as he moved on without me.

In an apartment in Crawley, my brother's corpse turned blue and bloated as he disintegrated into the mattress.

A drug lord waited for my return to England, gun loaded and safety off.

_Everything has already ended, darling; might as well leave how you entered._

"I'm sorry about the cyborg Noodle. I'm sorry that it was while she was trying to save me," I said towards the ocean, before glancing back over my shoulder at the green-skinned man standing slumped in the elevator, flashing him my best version of a charming Lou McLeod grin as I added, "But I'm going to find her for you, Murdoc Niccals, and when you get out of here you're gonna repair her. Maybe give her a voice-box this time; everyone deserves the chance to speak their truth."

He looked confused for a moment, before his hazel eyes widened and he stepped forward as if to stop me, mouth opening with a nasally drawling protest.

"Don't you dare go out there - I'm not interested in living the rest of my life with your death on my conscience."

In my mind I could see him as he had been when we'd said goodbye; rolling his eyes up at the blue sky above and sighing exhaustedly,  _you're not exactly forgettable._ I hoped he was wrong, looking over my shoulder and smiling remorsefully at the fact he'd ever managed to convince himself that I mattered. When I replied it was light, almost a laugh as I told him the only advice Nowhere Girls can give.

 "Don't make the mistake of keeping me as a ghost."

Then I was turning from him and running into the bright afternoon light, the pink painted trash of the plastic beach shimmering underfoot and my chest alight with the strange feeling of coming home. The way I had entered was the way I had lived: racing out towards the world too fast to catch. The sound of the planes above was like the buzzing of loud wasps as I skidded through the oily flotsam and jetsam, a volley of bullets spraying through the air towards me as I darted into view of the island's assailants.

_I am the girl who ran beside Lou McLeod through run-down nowhere suburbia, hometown glory painted in blue and red lights, in sirens and shouting policemen._

Zigzagging, shrapnel flicked up all around my blurring form as I sprinted around the headland, knowing there was a broken body waiting for me to find amongst the refuse.

_I am the one who fled through a seaside town to meet a blue-haired boy at a bus stop and ruin his date._

The plane passed overhead, staccato of bullets ceasing momentarily as I left it's sights. My legs were burning, bare feet blackened by the the bubbles of oil that had been sitting stagnant beneath the paint until my footfalls had burst them open like tar-filled pustules.

_And it was me who chased him through the carnival with the neon lights blurring, calling out the boy's name with what breath was still left in the ashes of my lungs._

The world became streamlined as I sprinted down the shore, an explosion in the building high above me causing the earth to quake and tremble in response. As I ran, a tiny body came into view, caught between a large plank of pink painted driftwood and a beached buoy.   
                   She was on her back, empty eyes staring up into the sky through the iridescent motor oil that had bled down her face from the bullet hole. One of her arms was bent underneath her at an odd angle, the other caught up and over the round edge of the buoy. She was a broken thing as I approached her, slowing down to a panting stumble through the debris until I was crouching down beside the corpse.

The sentry and the soldier, both deemed the wrong girl at the wrong time by the men in our lives. I felt bitter as I reached out to pull her off the large pieces of detritus, settling her down on the slope of the beach so that her arms were by her sides.

_We returned for them, the both of us. For Murdoc Niccals and Stuart Pot._

As I looked down at the Death Mask of her black-streaked face, I was suddenly unsure if either of them deserved it.

In the distance there was another round of gunfire, and I felt a pang of worry for the innocent album collaborators that were still trapped on the beach. I hadn't seen them when I'd run out, which most likely meant either they were hiding somewhere or were already dead. I hoped for the first option as I strained to try and heave Cyborg Noodle onto my back, her body limp and cumbersome. She was much heavier than I'd thought, the mechanics within still audibly fizzing as I staggered under her deadweight. My thin arms trembled as I reached behind me to help hold her up, stomach churning with the sickening realisation that I was piggybacking a child's corpse.

_She's a tank-girl. She was made for this._

I sunk ankle-deep into the landfill with every step as I trudged across the pink filth, struggling against the guilt that dragged me down along with the girl's bodyweight. A girl made by Murdoc to be a weaponised bodyguard; a ghost's shell remodelled for a single function. A girl made to die on a plastic beach, with a bullet through her skull and all her wires spitting sparks. Despite the rational line of thought my mind tried to lead me down, something didn't sit right within the cage of my chest as I considered once more what I had wondered on the helicopter.

_Who was it who made **you**  though, Sloane McLeod?  The failed sentry, the running nowhere girl. What end were you destined to meet?_

The planes were curving back around overhead, and I scrambled with my cumbersome load up to the top of the beach. Trying to flatten myself as close as possible to the outcrop that the Plastic Beach complex was built upon, I continued moving as swiftly as the weight of the cyborg allowed.

_All these people you say you don't know who you are without, yet which one gets to claim you? Who do you owe your life to?_

My brother? I felt the now almost-familiar pang of grief in my chest as I thought of him and all the parts of his life he'd given me. Lou had raised me, had taught me how to run and climb, how to fight and laugh. He had been the light of a way-finding star, leading me through the dark so that I would never have to bear the pain of losing my way. He was the Brave Face I saw etched across the backs of my closed eyelids whenever I wanted to give in, to give up. I missed him more than I could ever hope to say, and there were large parts of us we had shared like hand-me-downs that now felt hollow in his absence, yet he had not made me. 

My lover? My best friend. A boy stepping out of the shadows, lying next to me on the carousel roof. Stu had shown me how to accept loving care, how to seek another's touch and not have it burn my skin; to not be caught up in panic at my own vulnerability. He'd come into my life and reached past every defence I'd ever erected out of fear to offer me his hand. He was the boy with the sunshine smile, the man who had opened his arms wide to hold me despite the cruelty of my words and the violence of my actions. I was sure when I died one could carve open my chest and find his name written on my heart, yet he had not made me.

My guardian? The girl who had told the love of her life that she wouldn't stay to watch him destroy himself, then had the strength to walk away when he did. Birdie had helped me to understand the balancing act between being gentle and being firm; how to love people with everything I had and when to step back and realise that love just wasn't enough. She was the guardian angel that spoke softly to me still, a ghost that had transcended the ache of absence, yet she had not made me.

My fickle friend? I tried to ignore the guilt that spread across my tongue as I thought of the green-skinned man. Murdoc had been a lesson in just how many facets there can be to one person, had made me remember how to look past how things were at face-value. That someone could be bad and good at the same time; that someone could be hatefully bitter and still fall in love. He had stitched me back together when I'd needed it most, and he'd torn me apart with his own jealous agenda, yet he had not made me.

The addict, the coward, the angel and the thief. I owed pieces of myself to all of them yet none of them could claim me as their own, none could stand back from my trembling form and call themselves creator. I had been the girl asleep and girl afire; a phoenix ascending over and over again each time I was burned to the ground. Broke a man's nose and later spat out his blood, a glorious mess of teeth and trauma. Ran faster than the speed of a lightning strike and beat the thunder to the finish line. Watched an angel disappear into the darkness and let the night swallow me whole. Don't you see? I was the one who met the devil twice and both times called it a cunt.

_It was me. I made myself._

The words settled like liquid gold against my bruised and battered skin, smoothing over the sweat and grit until I felt reborn with the realisation that despite the fact they'd all in some way saved my life, I could live without them. I was not predestined to stand by whilst everyone left me, to keep watch over their ghosts; what happened next was subject to my choices too.

_You don't have to concede defeat._

Panting for air under the weight of the cyborg girl, I quickened my pace to hurry around the curve of the headland, knowing there was someone I had to find.   
                   He would be standing by the pier with fidgeting hands, his mouth slightly open in surprise before spreading into a wide grin as his dark eyes met mine. Thin lanky arms reaching out to pull me against his chest and then the two of us fitted back together; two broken fragments that somehow aligned.

_You left with heartache to try and avoid potential pain. Surely after all you've lived through, Sloane McLeod, you can be braver than that._

Emboldened, I hitched Cyborg Noodle up higher on my back, stepping through the pink-painted trash as the wharf finally came into view. The suitcases still sat in a pile at the steps of it, yet the last of the collaborators were still nowhere to be seen as the planes continued their slow loops of the island. Offshore, the pirate's large steel ship had come closer, crew members hurrying to and fro along the deck in a flurry of movement save for one lone figure.  
                  I squinted at the dark silhouette, narrowing my eyes as I felt it watching me in return, as if insects were crawling across my skin.

_Cunt._

I watched it gesture to one of the pirates, the man quick to follow the direction of it's finger as The Boogieman pointed towards me and then to something behind them that I couldn't make out. Frowning, I blinked sweat out of my eyes, spine in agony as I picked my way down towards the jetty at the shoreline.   
                  My plan was simple: lay Cyborg Noodle's body safely behind the pile of bags, find 2D and the others, then get the fuck away from Plastic Beach.

The black water beyond the edge of the shore was churning as I approached it, the inky depths foaming in the space between the island and the pirate ship like a pot of stew rolling to a boil. I tried not to let it distract me as I turned my attention back to The Boogieman and his pirates, only to feel my mouth go dry in panic as I saw what the crew member had gone to retrieve.

A long tube-like device, one end blunt whilst the other ended in a tapered point. They carried it aloft on their burly shoulder, coming to stand beside the unnaturally tall black figure whose gloved hand pointed towards me. I watched with my pulse turning to strobe as the tube was aimed towards me, eyes blowing wide as I recognised it as an RPG.

"Are you  **FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW**??"

As if my violent outburst had been a secret cue, the pirate fired.

Time moved like molasses as I dove sideways, body on autopilot as panicked instincts kicked in. The weight of the cyborg girl slammed me down hard against the wet rubbish, our bodies barely connecting with the ground before the projectile exploded on the embankment somewhere behind us, the shockwave of heat throwing us apart in a tumble of molten trash and flame. I opened my mouth to scream but never got the chance as water flooded through the opening and down my throat, limbs thrashing as I sunk into the icy black water. Kicking rapidly to try and propel myself towards air, I stared through the murk of the water in terror at the realisation that I couldn't see the surface. All around were bubbles and chunks of melted flotsam and jetsam, obscuring any clear view of where I was in the deep abyss I had been thrown into.

Choking on seawater, salt stinging my eyes and nose, I swam blindly towards what I hoped was upwards as my lungs felt ready to burst within the cage of my shuddering ribs. My heartbeat was in my vision, a red and pounding membrane across the brightness I was swimming into until I burst through the skin of the ocean and gasped at the air above, dragging it painfully down my throat. Looking wildly around, I sat back and breathed raggedly for a few moments more before I became aware that I was up and out of the water, reclining on some sort of large brown padded raft.

_What the-_

The raft clenched, continuing to rise from the water in a shower of sea-spray as something breached the bubbling surface directly in front of me. A large dome the same sienna colouring as the curling platform which held me, emerging from the waves until I could see two brows creased in a scowl, then a pair of glowing white eyes. I blanched, staring with horror into the impossibly huge face as a giant man surfaced until the tops of his broad and muscled shoulders broke the surface of the water.

My mind went completely blank as I failed to comprehend what I was looking at, frozen stock still as I traced the length of his arm up to the raft I sat atop to realise I was sitting on the man's large palm. His broad face had relaxed it's scowl, but he was none the less fearsome as he stared me down with his giant eyes, the swell of his lips set in a hard line. I could see every pore in his skin, the thick hairs of his stubble the length and thickness of my fingers.

_Surely I died in the water and this is some kind of hell._

The giant was disinterested in my eternal damnation however, as he extended out the hand he held me in over towards the pink shore and tipped it sideways. I let out a strangled yelp of surprise as I slid down the lined surface of his palm, landing with a thud on my hands and knees in the trash.

All gunfire had ceased at the giant's eruption from the water, but as I looked up in a daze towards the man's face towering forty feet above me, the droning of the warplanes engines rose to a crescendo as they descended upon the King Kong sized new opponent.

**BRATATATATATATATATTATAT-**

The volley of bullets from each plane landed in an ineffectual spray against him, tiny blood blisters opening up across his dark skin yet otherwise seemingly making no impact as he swatted at them with a scowl. I watched on helplessly as they looped around him like wasps, staying out of reach of his large hands as he tried to pull them from the air. I wasn't sure if the giant was fighting for us or against us as I rose achingly to stand, but I felt I owed him one after he'd lifted me from the water. 

_If they keep this up they'll eventually take him down, and then they'll continue blasting the island to pieces._

Casting around for some kind of weapon, my mouth fell open in shock as I saw the molten mess of the beach behind me; a wasted crater still burning from the blast, the oil spills that helped hold the island together being greedily consumed by flame. As I watched, a figure emerged from the walls of heat, stepping with the lithe grace of a predator over the upturned crates and broken plastic.

Cyborg Noodle.

Black viscous tears streamed from her beneath her eyelids as she blinked rapidly, gaze empty and sparks fizzing from the hole in her forehead. As she made her way towards me, she raised the rifle in her hands in a single fluid motion and aimed with her deadly precision.

**BANG.**

My eyes flinched shut as I waited for the bullet to hit, only to hear it whizz past me instead and make impact in it's intended target. The giant bellowed in pain, and I whirled to see him picking the fat rifle slug from the space between his furrowed brows, squeezing it like a pimple. Behind me, the cyborg Noodle readied another shot.

"Wait! NO!" I cried out, rushing towards her with my hands held out in protest, but the robot child was already cocking her rifle once more.

**BANG.**

She fired again, the giant responding in a roar that shook the air around us as he slammed his fists down hard against the edge of the island, leaning over with his mouth gaping open to reveal a slim figure stepping out from the cavern of his maw.  
                    Still in shock from the giant's sudden appearance, I found myself almost eye-rolling at the newcomer.

_Jesus wept, these radge cunts just love to make an entrance, don't they?_

She wore a white nurse's dress with red trims on each pocket, as well as striped stockings that gave her a doll-like appearance. Ragged black hair stuck out in thick matted tufts from the back of her head, yet of her face I could see nothing due to the strange cat mask which obscured it entirely. I watched incredulously as she sprang from the giant man's mouth to land in a crouch on the shore, before standing and addressing the cyborg girl who was standing frozen in shock beside me.

"Imposter."

Her voice was young yet firm, the one word uttered in such cold dismissal that I couldn't help but cringe from the stranger. Still reeling from the fact that the young woman had been travelling inside the giant's mouth, I was dazed as I reached out a protective hand to the cyborg child, feeling her cold silicon skin humming with internal motors beneath my palm. The masked face moved to follow the movement, before the girl moved into a fighting stance.

"Look lady, both the cyborg and I are having a really shite day," I drawled, looking between the masked girl, her giant friend and the planes still whirring around taking pot shots at his head, "So if you could possibly just settle the fuck down -"

"Quiet!" She snapped, holding up her hand towards me irritably, "I'm not speaking to you."

She was so commanding that I clamped my mouth shut immediately upon her order, swallowing nervously as I watched her delicate hands reach up to the mask and push it up so that we could see her face.

The first thing I saw was her pointed chin, followed by a wide mouth and petite nose. Her monolid eyes were a dark brown, the left one marred with scarring around the socket and down her cheekbone. A face I knew, but older, the depths of her gaze filled with a wisdom beyond any I had ever seen before. I stared into the anger of them, suddenly understanding exactly who she was even before she spoke.

"I have come to destroy this abomination and reclaim my rightful place within Gorillaz."

_Noodle..._

Beside me the Cyborg doppelgänger jerked into motion once more, whirring and clicking as her damaged circuits computed the information she was being faced with. As Noodle stepped forward, her younger self dropped the rifle from her hands and did the same, the two of them facing off down the length of the pink shore; the scarred warrior girl and her twin soldier, gunfire overhead in bright bursts of light. Looking between them frantically, I clenched and unclenched my jaw, caught between wanting to protect the damaged robot child and knowing I could never hurt 2D's little sister in an attempt to stop her.

_Stu... He needs to know she's alive._

My heart jolted hard in my chest, a wave of elation coming over me as I realised how incredible this strange girl's arrival on Plastic Beach truly was.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, letting my protests curdle across the dry expanse of my tongue as I turned away from them. It wasn't my fight; and besides, I had a heartbroken boy waiting somewhere for me to tell him the words every grieving soul yearns to hear: that she came back. Just this once, the ghost came back.

I couldn't help the twinge beneath my sternum as I thought of Lou, of how much I wished he too could have returned to the world of the living. A sarcastic skinhead stepping from the mouth of the giant, trying not to smirk as he delivered some sort of one-liner.

_"You heard it here first people," He'd be announcing, "Straight from the huge man's mouth."_

I tried not to ache at the thought, a smile finding it's way to my lips as I quickened my pace to find 2D.

_I'm glad it was Stu. Out of all of us, I'm glad it got to be him._

Looking over to my right, I was relieved to see that the collaborators were very much alive and had taken advantage of the planes' current distraction to reconvene their huddle on the wharf. I set off towards the group, squinting as I tried to make out a blue-haired figure among them yet unable to see him even as I skidded to a halt at the steps of the dock. It was a scrambling chaos I had walked into, the petrified collaborators jostling with each other to grab their individual bags and pack them onto the supply boat.  
                  Only one figure among them was still, hissing out for them to hurry as he stood not helping in the centre of the panic. His arms were crossed, green fingers flexing with stress as he watched them all irritably, as if orchestrating their escape from the island was taking a little more effort than he had realised.

"Murdoc!" I yelled out to him, grabbing the focus of his hazel gaze and watching as he sighed in obvious relief.

"Well if it isn't the little pest herself," He drawled, sauntering down the jetty to stand on the top stair, "You're just in time for the last ride out of here."

I ignored his petty nickname for me, too excited to let it taint my mood as I pointed towards the two girls slowly circling each other down the beach. Murdoc followed my finger before nodding briskly, face remaining unmoved.

"Yes, exactly why we are making a swwwwift exit from the island," He droned, gesturing lazily towards the seaplane and boat behind him.

"What are you talking about? It's Noodle! She's alive," I exclaimed, my excitement for him ebbing as I watched him shake his head dismissively.

"I already knew she was bloody well alive, I just didn't know she'd hear about my cyborg this early," Murdoc sneered, rolling his eyes as he continued, "The little backstabber asked to leave the band years ago, but of course she'd come crawling back once she heard she'd been replaced. It's just a little too soon for this part of the plan."

The warmth leeched from my cheeks as I stared at him, uncomprehending. Murdoc's hazel eyes flicked over my face, his mouth twisting into a contemptuous smirk as I failed to choke out a response.

"I suppose that dimwit 2-dents told you about  _El Manana_? It was a hoax, an easy way for her to leave Gorillaz and get us some publicity at the same time."

My voice was frail when I managed to respond, small in all the sounds of the gunfire echoing around us, "But... why did you let 2D believe -"

"Don't be dim, Sloane. Face-ache and Russel had to have what looked like a genuine reaction, otherwise it'd look suspicious," Murdoc snapped, cutting me off defensively, "Besides, she did crash land with her parachute and disappear, so  _technically_  I never lied."

I stared at him, mouth open in shock as I processed the terrible truth of it all. I could see 2D as he had been in his bedroom, mouth twisting with bitterness as he told me how much he missed Noodle, how he suspected Murdoc had been behind her death. The sour taste of bile flooded my mouth as I recalled how hesitant I'd been to believe him.

_I guess Murdoc fooled the both of us._

Sickened, I stepped back from the green-skinned man with a prickle of unease sending a chill down my spine. He began to frown, brows coming down from beneath his fringe to crease the skin of his forehead, eyes burning into mine. I could see his wrath, his spite, the two of them written out across his face in every line and scar; he was the monster he had made himself into, I could see it so clearly now.

I was cold as I asked the question that burned suddenly bright with panic in my chest, voice sharp.

"Where's 2D?"

Murdoc didn't respond, his face transforming into an emotionless blank slate as he looked cooly back at me. I swallowed the hysteria beginning to claw at my throat, anxiety running electricity down the length of my spine as my gaze flicked between his mask of carelessness and the tussle occurring between the two Noodles.   
                 Overhead the large hand of the giant man snatched one of the planes that assaulted him clean out of the air, crushing it with a flex of his palm. I was sure I saw the burst of red when the pilot's blood was squeezed from their body.

"Where is he?"

My voice cracked as I asked again, looking into Murdoc's eyes imploringly as he stared back unmoved. My blood ran cold.

_He's still on Floor B2. The bastard forgot about him._

The realisation left my mouth dry with panic as I looked towards the large metal door set into the cliffside, open to reveal a distant view into the trash-filled lobby. Betrayal burned like poison in my veins, throbbing fire through my system.

"Sloane -"

"You're heartless," I spat, venom flying from my lips as I hurled the words at his carefully blank face before I turned to leave.

"Better heartless than dead, love," Murdoc growled, and I seethed in rage as I felt his hand catch around my arm, yanking me back to the stairs as he continued, "The building is structurally unsound; any second now it's going to collapse."

"You radge cunt! You don't care about anyone -" I began to yell, twisting in his grip until he shook me roughly, cutting me off.

"I  _do_  care! You stupid, stupid girl," He snapped, fingers compressing my wrist hard enough for the bones to audibly crack, "But he's gone! Accept it and move on like I have."

I shoved him off me, tears pricking my eyes as I stared at him in horror. The man was standing there in the sunlight with the pink of the shore reflecting in his infected eye, the other flecked with green and golds; the perfect divide between loneliness and lunacy. Uninjured hand moving to grasp my bruised wrist, I looked on silently as he breathed deeply before speaking once more.

"Sloane, I refuse to stand by and watch you go down there."

The words meant nothing to me, were empty shells that fell at my feet. I crushed them beneath my heel, grinding them into the wooden step of the wharf.

"Then don't watch," I heard myself say, voice flat and hateful, "Look away, and while you're at it go fuck yourself."

_I'm coming Stu. I won't leave you behind._

My feet seemed made for flight as I set off sprinting up the beach, Murdoc swearing colourfully behind me. Every footfall was met with the squelch of oil, black spraying up my shins as it burst through the pink paint and tainted the veneer with what filth lay beneath. My anxiety receded from my limbs as I ran through the lobby doorway, fuelled by a golden warmth lighting up within the very marrow of my bones. It felt a lot like love, it felt a lot like knowing we were both getting out of this hellhole Murdoc made for us alive.

Dodging past fallen chunks of the ceiling and trash bags, I jabbed the "down" button on the elevator control panel, leaping inside as the doors grated open. Wasting no time, I was quick to press the button for B2, hopping foot to foot whilst the doors trundled to an achingly slow close. The light flickered on and off as I waited for the lift to descend, my pulse racing as I felt it jag on it's pulleys.

_Is it too broken to move?_

There was a terrible screeching sound of metal on metal, drowning out the sound of the gunshots outside as the elevator box slid downwards. I braced myself against the wall, feeling the vibrations of something being pushed by the movement of the lift, some sort of obstruction that every now and then caught against the sides of the shaft and caused the box to jerk to a sudden stop. My hands clenched and unclenched in agitation as I held my breath, wanting it to go faster but terrified it would suddenly plummet to a final, fatal stop.

**Clunk. Chk-kk. CLUNK.**

The lift halted in it's descent with a violent lurch, the soft bell chiming after a few moments of complete silence. Then the doors were dragging themselves open and I felt my stomach drop sickeningly as I stared at the tubing and bare cables lining the shaft walls, only a narrow slice of the darkened  _B2_  level visible through a five inch gap along the lift floor.

_No no no no_

"Murdoc? What's wiv all the noises up there?" Came a lilting voice, floating up to me through the darkness and melting like honey against my parted lips.

"Stu."

Just his name, forever the sweetest sound my tongue could make as I sunk to the ground, lying so that I could see through the gap and into the room beyond. Eyes adjusting to the lowlight, I was dismayed to see the walls were cracked from the shockwaves of the bomb blasts above, the structural damage visible yet not enough to break the room apart. My stomach turned with queasy panic as I noted the sea water that was leaking into the room as a small spray from a particularly deep crack, malevolent despite it's minuscule size.

"Sloane?"

He stepped into sight as he whispered my name, black eyes wide in the dark as they met mine. Blue hair a mess, cheeks silvery with dried tears, he sniffled and turned away to wipe his nose with his sleeve before fixing me with a look of wonder.

"You came back."

My heart slammed itself to pieces against my sternum, begging to return home, and I felt myself grinning at him through the tears that threatened to spill down my face.

"Of course I did, I promised I'd protect you from all the big scary whales of the world didn't I?" I laughed weakly, hoping he remembered our conversation about  _Jonah and the Whale_  from all those years ago.

"Somefink like that," 2D murmured, smiling softly for a moment before looking towards the exposed lift shaft below me and frowning ever so slightly as he added, "I fink the lift is broken. There's a big metal strut fing broken off the base of it an' it's wedged against a pole in the wall here."

"Can you shift it?" I asked, craning my neck to try and keep him in sight as he reached out beneath the elevator box. 

There was the sound of faint creaking and metal jiggling against metal as he wrestled with the impeding parts, before he gave up with a sigh. When he reappeared in my view through the gap his lips were downturned at the corners, black eyes heavy-lidded in defeat.

"It's jammed in there too hard."

_No._

"The lift was pushing it down before, maybe if I try and jostle the box then the weight will snap it," I said in a rush, panic rearing within my body like a wild animal as I leapt to my feet, slamming my shoulder hard against the far wall of the elevator.

The confined box shuddered from the impact, but otherwise remained unmoved as I stepped back and tried again, launching myself to collide hard and fast with the graffitied wall. My body rebounded off it painfully, the elevator jostling with the awful sound of metallic screeching as whatever piece had become stuck below scraped against the pole. 

_It has to go down. It has to let me reach him._

I leapt again for the scrawl-covered wall, desperation painting the world in a swirl of hyper-colour as I beat my body against it. The box swayed and scraped, then there was a snapping sound that echoed down the shaft, followed by the thud of something hitting the roof as the entire space jerked.

"Stop!" 2D cried out in distress, and I immediately froze, lying back down so that I could see his forlornly upturned face as he told me what my aching chest refused to believe, "It's wedged too hard, an' all the bangin' an' crashin' only made one of the cables snap."

"There has to be a way-" I began to tell him, my voice rough as it dragged itself past the lump in my throat, but he shook his head, face drained of all it's colour.

"It's over, Sloane. It's all finished."

"No! It isn't," I protested, eyes wide as I watched him give in to the horror of the situation. Remembering what I had wanted to tell him - the girl he needed to find - I felt tears choking my words as I tried again, "Stu, Noodle's alive. She's up on the beach, waiting for you."

Ink-coloured eyes grew wide, lips parting in disbelief as he looked up at me. Overhead there was a rumble of an explosion, shaking the building around us as 2D tried to find the words he needed to speak. What words were there to say? He had created a perfect world of misery for himself in an act of grief, only to now find out his sorrow had been misplaced.

"... how?" He asked finally in a whisper, his voice breaking on the single syllable, angular face wavering between a joyful smile and open-mouthed shock.

I looked at him with a knife waiting to launch itself from my tongue, cold and metallic against the flesh as I tried to think of a way to tell him without breaking his heart.

_She left him and let him suffer that whole time, thinking she was dead. How can you tell someone that? How can you keep it from them?_

Sickness clawed up my throat as I wrung my hands, shaking my head slowly as 2D looked up at me expectantly. I wanted to tell him that she would never have done it if she'd known how much it'd hurt him, but I didn't know if it were true. I knew nothing save for the fact that I couldn't leave here without him.

"You can ask her yourself," I managed to say, offering him a crooked smile as I grasped the upper edge of the room's elevator opening and pressed hard against it, "Now come on, help me push this thing down."

He shook his head, gaze heavy-lidded as he watched me strain against the unyielding surface. Something in him had changed, had shifted until the layers of his armour had begun to peel back, revealing the vulnerable bones beneath.

"No, Sloane. It'll break the elevator an' then you'll be stuck down here too," He said in flat refusal, rubbing his temples with a wince as he looked away from me, as he looked anywhere except my pleading face.

"What else can I do?" I asked him shrilly, mouth flooding with the salty tang of tears as he scowled up at me in response.

"Leave! Just leave again," He snapped, stooping to snatch the long-nosed mask I'd thrown at him earlier off the floor and holding it out at me with shaking hands, "I'm nuffink, I'm just a liar an' a fool, remember?"

I felt the words hit me like a slap but I pushed them aside, knowing how terrified he was, how hard he would lash out in an effort to protect me from harm. When I didn't reply straight away, he seemed to sink a little as he slid the mask onto the top of his head, causing the blue tufts of his hair to stick out at wild angles. 

Gently, I gazed at him through the narrow gap and murmured, "You're my best friend, Stu. I'm not leaving here without you."

"You have ta!" The blue-haired man exclaimed, hugging himself and shivering in the darkness of  _Floor B2_ as he added miserably, "You can't help me anymore."

We had reached a stalemate, my hands empty and useless as I lay there looking at the man I had loved since seventeen, still unable to take no for an answer. Give up or give in, no other choice had been granted to us as I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

"If I leave now, you'll die."

The words hurt to say, like whispering razors through my lips, and 2D shuddered before offering me an attempt at a smile that had the candle-bearer within my chest limping out towards him, only to be caught up against my ribcage, only to struggle against the confines of my skin.

"I fink whether you leave or not, Sloane, I'm gonna die either way," The boy said simply, and I loved him as he shrugged at me helplessly, mouth beginning to curve into a laugh of terrified  hysteria.

There was no version of the world I wanted to live in where he didn't leave with me. No way for me to comprehend a life without him out there in the world. I wanted to say it but couldn't find the words as I looked down at him; a love from which I was now eternally barred.

_Don't ask to become another ghost I carry with me, please, I cannot bear it._

He reached his hand up to me, sliding it through the narrow space to take mine. Our fingers interlocked, mine forever crooked and trembling beside his long pale ones.

"Go on angel, you gotta get out of here," He told me simply, his face set despite the fear I could see flickering in the black depths of his eyes, "I can't come wiv you."

"But... I love you," I said brokenly, the words scratching out through the raw mess of my mouth.

He smiled, the crooked one I knew was pretence, the pad of his thumb stroking across my knuckles.

"I'm sorry fa all the fings I couldn't be," both the boy and the man whispered, his false smile fading as his gaze traced the lines of my face like he wanted to memorise it perfectly for later, despite the fact he would not live long enough to forget.

I clutched tight to his trembling fingers warm in my hand, leaning to brush them with a kiss wet with tears. Another bombardment from above shook the island, more cracks appearing across the walls of the underwater room.

"You have ta go now, before it's too late," He urged, black eyes flickering in panic. I felt his hand begin to pull from mine and I cried out in a sob that was almost lost in the rumbling from above.

"Stu, please, I can't leave you here," I begged, the vision of the blue-haired boy through the narrow gap blurring with tears.

His lilting voice was an exasperated rasp as he replied, cracking on one broken word.

"Why?"

"Because I want you with me," I wept, eyes meeting his over all the wasted love between us, "Both here and at the end of all things."

2D smiled, looking up at me as if I was a far-off moon he could never hold. There were tears in his eyes but they didn't fall as he gripped my hand tight in his own.

"I wish I could be," He murmured, before blinking away the moisture, still smiling softly as I watched him put on his Brave Face; that beautiful gap-toothed grin he had always reserved just for me. When he spoke again his voice didn't tremble, his smile never faltering as he told me, "But I can't. And you can't stay here wiv me, no matter what. You're gonna get off this island and get away from people like me, and Murdoc, and DeWitt. None of us deserve you, not even fa a second."

I clenched my teeth, chest aching as I spoke through my sobs, "Please don't leave me, not again Stu."

"Oh, my Sloane, as if there was a place in the world I wouldn't be wiv you."

And then he was gently slipping his hand from mine, pulling away and stepping back from the elevator doors whilst my skin went cold with his absence. I watched as his gaze flicked to the porthole window on the opposite side of the room, a blurry shape visible through the cracked surface in the dim lighting. It was far away, almost but a speck in the distance, but was quickly growing larger as it approached at speed.

"The whale is comin'..." 2D murmured, before turning back to face me, tone one of urgency, "You have ta get out of here. I mean it, Sloane."

Every cell in my body burned with my desire to argue, to tell him that I wasn't leaving again, that I wished now that I never had in the first place. Yet as I looked into the darkness of his eyes I found I couldn't say the words. I couldn't deny him the one thing he'd asked of me as he stood waiting on the cusp of death, trying his hardest to be brave.

With a wretched sob I stood, my view of the room shifting until I could only see his upturned face,  the long-nosed mask sitting askew atop his blue-haired head. In that moment he was the most beautiful he'd ever been; his cheeks pale like a morning star just before the dawn steals it from view, with purpling bruises on his chin and under one wide black eye. I committed him to memory as I stood there, cradling my love for him in one hand whilst the other hovered over the Ground Floor lift button.

"Thank you, Stu," I whispered across the distance stretching out forever between us, "For everything; for being my best friend. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like it was somehow second best to anything else we could have been."

The boy shook his head, eyes large and sad voids as they looked up and into mine. His mouth opened to answer but he never got the chance as he was interrupted by a loud rumble from above, shaking the elevator hard enough for it to clunk against the sides of the lift shaft before settling precariously back once more. My gaze was locked with 2D's, the both of us knowing we had run out of time.

"I don't know where I'm going, but if I see Lou on the way there I'll send him your love," The blue-haired man rasped, still trying to make me smile despite the fear that made his voice crack on the words. I felt my lips curve upward, a breathy laugh escaping from between them as I watched him through the slit between the roof and the elevator floor, my heart aching with the bitter sorrow of it all.

I went to make my own attempt at a lighthearted reply when another bomb shook the building, the walls of the underground bunker audibly cracking to release a harder hissing stream of seawater into the room. 2D's gaze flicked from mine to the porthole once more, growing wider in alarm before settling back on my face.

"The whale is almost here. I can see it Sloane, it's comin' straight fa me," His tone was urgent, eyes panicked as he stared at me imploringly, "It's time."

My hand stayed frozen over the lift button, my heart lurching in my chest as I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. I watched as he nodded, lips quirking at the corners in a small sad smile as I finally pressed down. The elevator jerked in response, the doors beginning to grate slowly closed.

"Goodbye, Sloane."

I wanted to tell him all the ways in which I loved him, to sob out a farewell from the very centre of my aching chest and have him know exactly how much darker the world would be without his sunshine smile. Standing there looking down through the slowly narrowing gap, clutching all the words I had yet to say and knowing, with every fibre of my being, that none of them would be enough.

_I love you._

"I'll see you around, Stu."

He grinned wide at my words, nodding with tears in his eyes as his hand reached up to the mask sitting atop his head, beginning to slide it down over his face as he called out across the final unreachable space between us.

"I know it's scary, Sloane, but you gotta let go; that's the only way a Trapeze Swinger gets ta fly."

Then the mask was over his eyes and he was turning to face the oncoming whale as the elevator doors snapped shut on my view of him, ascending jerkily while I clutched at my heart, staring unseeingly at the place where he'd disappeared from sight.

_Stu -_

An earth shattering impact from below flung me off my feet, the lift box shaking wildly on the pulleys with enough force to turn everything into a maelstrom of rubble that collapsed around me as I realised what had just happened.

_Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu STU STU STU STU STU-_

Shrapnel rained down on my fallen body, the world becoming incomprehensible static and white noise until I knew nothing but the agony that blocked out all other sensation. The sun had exploded into a supernova and Earth had gone dark in his absence, icy without his warmth.

_STU STU STU STU STU STU STU STU STU-_

Distantly I could hear someone was screaming, just one word repeated over and over until the syllable became an incomprehensible sound of grief. A name. Someone's name.

_STU STU STU STU STU STU STU STU STU-_

My voice. His name. It didn't matter. The ringing in my ears was slowly ceasing, throat splitting open raw and turning to sobs. There was a terrible grating noise from the doors as someone forced them apart, but as I lay there in the broken pieces of the smashed elevator wall I found I could see nothing but black stretching out forever beyond my open and staring eyes.  
                 Hands were grabbing for me, pulling me from beneath bits of scrap and shaking me roughly.

"Sloane?? Sloane oh thank fuck you're alive."

I wasn't alive, couldn't they see? The world had ended and we had all entered hell; no need to thank fuck or god or any the cruel angels who had sat up in the clouds and watched all this happen. 

"Sloane, love? Can you hear me?"

_Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu_

I was blind as they gently pulled me into their arms, lifting me from the floor with a sweeping motion so that I was cradled to their chest. All around were the muffled sounds of gunfire and the plane engines, incomprehensible yelling from afar, and I blinked at the dark static still blocking out my vision as I felt myself being carried away from my tomb.  
                 I couldn't think to try and identify who it was that had found me, my hands groping dazedly at their shirtfront, but they must have loved me as I felt their lips brush my temple in a tender kiss.

"It's alright love, you're in shock. I'm here. I've got you."

They must have loved me so goddamn much, as they held me close to their steady pulse. It was a waste; the blue-haired boy had disappeared and I couldn't find his ghost within that blind hellscape of gunfire and ruin. It didn't matter who was with me.

_Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu Stu_

"He's gone, love, I'm sorry."

I felt everything go limp, sounds becoming muffled once more as I choked for air through the swollen expanse of my throat. Inhale, exhale. A whimper passing through my mouth, dragging across my dusty tongue. Whoever held me was speaking once more, but this time not to me.

"Fire up the seaplane and let's get the hell out of here."

I could hear someone replying, but their words were muted through the white noise flooding my senses. The one holding me spoke again.

"Well if there's no more room then she can take my place; I'll find another way off the island."

An urgent reply, the speaker seemingly arguing with my rescuer, then their cutting reply as a finite end to the conversation.

"Yes I'm bloody sure! Now get going, we're running out of time."

They carried me a few moments longer, before my fingers fisted in the material of their shirt as they began lowering me down gently. There was a sound like a raspy laugh, barely audible over the sound of an engine starting nearby, then their hand was on mine trying to pry the deathgrip loose.  
                  My vision was returning slowly, hazy and grey as I felt them loosen my fingers from their chest and watched the silhouette of a figure step back from me. The light from the setting sun made me blink rapidly as everything sunk in and out of focus, lips parting in faraway surprise as I found myself lying on my side on the floor of the seaplane and looking out the open door to a man standing alone on the pier. His hands were in his pockets, face unreadable as he watched me with his hazel eyes.

"Until next time, Sloane McLeod," Murdoc drawled nonchalantly, stepping back as the plane began to move and adding with a dry laugh, "I'd say it's been a pleasure but, why lie?"

_You saved my life._

The door was slammed shut by the co-pilot, stealing the green-skinned man from view as the plane began to speed up as it readied for takeoff. My eyes fluttered closed, time slipping in and out of space in a numb haze until I felt the jerk of the plane leaving the water.  
                   As we ascended steadily into the sky and curved through the air towards whatever far-off land, I slid against the door bodily, head momentarily high enough to see out the little window at the top. Below I could see Murdoc, a solitary figure standing on the wharf growing smaller with every passing second. My mind felt clouded as I watched him, his face upturned towards us as we left him behind, and I couldn't help but distantly wonder how he would get home.

The plane began to bank in the opposite direction, and the black spots flickering across my vision grew larger as consciousness began to slip from my grasp. The last thing I saw before I sunk into the waiting dark was the hazy image of Murdoc standing alone, the island collapsing into pieces around him.


	22. 3.9

An ache. The sound of wind and a droning engine, the occasional muted conversation between two men I could not remember the names of. Consciousness stirring just enough to allow distant sensations to filter through the throbbing pain in my chest, right behind the sternum.

"Hey, hey, can you hear me?"

_Make it stop._

I scratched weakly at the agonising spasm trapped behind the bone, eyes closed to the world. It had ended, surely. It had to have ended, and if it hadn't then I didn't want it anyway.

"Where's your home, girl? Where can we drop you off?" The interrupting voice asked again, a hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

Home? A trailer sitting halfway up a hill at a seaside fairground. An underwater room at the bottom of a pink island made from trash. There had been someone, but I couldn't see their face as I clutched hard at the centre of my chest, feeling the aching pulse become a burn that forced the air from my lungs in a ragged gasp.

_Make it stop take this from me take it all I cannot bear it -_

Hands on my hands, trying to pry my grip free as I clawed and crushed at the fragile skin over my sternum.

"Hey! Stop that."

_It hurts it hurts it's killing me make it stop make it stop make it STOP -_

"Let go! Hey, please  _let go._ "

Then the memory of a lilting voice, so different from the one which tried to pull me from my panic, echoing up through the layers of white noise within my mind.

_I know it's scary, Sloane, but you gotta let go._

A breath, fingers going limp as I felt them fall away from the throbbing ache within my chest and I remembered what the thing was that hurt too much to bear; a heartbeat.

_That's the only way a Trapeze Swinger gets ta fly._

Swallowing painfully against the raw expanse of my throat, I tried to envision the man that had spoken the words, only to instead see jagged fragments of my life flashing out across the endless dark. They were broken pieces of a lost whole too painful to watch, and I opened my eyes with a gasp, staring up and into the blurred face of the collaborator acting as co-pilot as he restrained my once-violent hands.

"Where do you want us to drop you off?" He asked again, and I stared blankly at his mouth moving, unable to find my voice.

_I have lost everyone that ever mattered to me, everyone I ever built a home in._

I could feel myself standing back from the past five years, holding the end of the thread that I'd laid down day by day to become the miserable tangle I saw now. I couldn't re-enter the chaos, couldn't lead myself back through to find some place in the past where they all still lived, yet as I stared blindly into the co-pilot's face it was the only way I could imagine being able to survive.

_Next time build the home in yourself; you cannot continue living in other people._

I lay there still in the static of shock, faced with the slowly dawning realisation that the girl who had made herself now only had her self; that she had been gifted her life and now had to live it, no matter the pain. The Nowhere Girl had to give up her ghosts and let them go; someone she couldn't allow herself to remember had told her to.  
                   Numb, my lips parted despite the grief that sat heavy against them, pushing past the ache beneath my sternum as my heart continued it's steady beat. When I finally spoke I didn't recognise my voice, the sound hollow and broken as it left my tongue.

_It's time, Sloane McLeod. You might as well leave how you entered._

"Brighton."

 

\----------------

 

Dusk had begun to eat the last rays of sun from the sky when the seaplane glided into Brighton harbour, the city beyond slowly sparking up in a mass of glittering electric lights. I felt like a moth drawn to deadly flames as I watched it growing closer and closer until it filled my vision, the plane landing in a graceful swoop atop the dark water.

Fisherman still fished in the dying light off the edge of the Marina sea walls as the plane glided along the waves towards the set of jetties tucked safely behind, lined with boats bobbing gently on the swell. The pilot steered the little seaplane to a free space on the nearest wharf, and I leapt out across the small gap between them, stumbling on my cramped legs as I landed on the wooden boards.

"Thank you," I managed to cough out towards the two men I had shared the escape-flight with, unsure of what exactly to say as they both nodded down at me. With a tongue like sandpaper I added, "Fly safe."

I had no other words for them, my mouth dry and silent. Turning away numbly, I marched down the jetty without a single glance backwards for my fellow Plastic Beach escapees. The smell of brine filled my lungs, each inhale pushing it's thick and salt-laden perfume into the tainted confines of my ribs, pulling out the scent of trash that still clung to me in memory. I breathed hard enough to make my chest burn as I looked out past the Marina to the city beyond, blinking dry eyes at the buildings I hadn't seen since I was seventeen, standing in the train station bus terminal with Lou.

_He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and swearing about the cold._

My teeth sunk into my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and I let the copper tang spread across across my tongue in a sickening ooze. The ghost of him was somewhere nearby, always hovering just beyond the edge of vision with that wry smirk of his. Like a child I wanted to reach out for his hand and hold it clasped with mine, to enter the city together and finish what we started.

_It cannot be; I was robbed of you, Lou._

I entered the city alone, numb and cold in my t-shirt and jeans, feet bare against the rough surface of the pavement. There was a scent still caught in the folds of the purple ringer tee, that neither sweat nor seawater had managed to wash away; a faint trace of dirty hair and oranges, of bourbon and stale cigarette smoke. I held the cloth to my nose and breathed deeply, eyes closed to the flashing headlights of cars that whizzed past and the few scattered pedestrians that walked along Madeira Drive in the growing twilight. A presence started to form beside me, translucent in the dim light and wavering as my memories began to coalesce into his shape, into the suggestion of his face.  
                   Pain flared so strongly within the confines of my shivering skin that I almost let out a gasp, halting stock still on the promenade with the sound of the ocean waves loud and ringing in my ears. Releasing the fabric from my grip, I clenched my teeth hard enough to feel each one ache from the pressure, slamming my knuckles hard into my bruised sternum.

_Don't remember, don't remember._

The presence faded, my fist still pressed hard to my aching chest as I continued walking, feeling the numbness pulling me back down beneath it's surface. The pain was on it's way, already stamped and in the post, but until I finished what I had set out to do here I couldn't allow it to find me just yet.   
                   After all, there was a man also out looking for me. A man who had organised my mother to be taken away from her two children, had entrapped her son into selling heroin for him. Told his henchmen they could cut my face, that they could hurt me as they liked. Made Lou take his first hit to prove he hadn't become a snitch, then done nothing as he'd spiralled towards that terrible end.

Mr James DeWitt, doubtlessly searching even now for me across Sussex. Like the pain, he would soon find me too, and what would happen next did not bear thinking about. I felt my lips set in a hard line as I quickened my pace, brow set in a determined scowl.

_I will ruin you, old man._

Barefoot and brave, I walked until the funfair at Brighton Palace Pier had turned from a distant glow to a beacon of lights and colour, carnival music drifting through the night air towards me as I watched the scattered groups of Winter holidayers entering through the shining white gates. Beyond I could see food stalls and rides, the far-off ferris wheel and beside it the sloped roof of a carousel, rotating with it's golden string lights. Looking at it all, I felt something deep in my stomach wrench, like a knife twisting through the flesh. Standing in the dark with hands curling to fists, I tore my gaze from the sight, ignoring the rapid beat of my heart as I turned away and began walking up and into the city beyond the shore.

I knew that somewhere in the streets that stretched on in front of me I could find Brighton Train Station, the bus terminal right beside it. I knew if I stood there long enough, the night would roll on without me until morning came with it's misty chill, along with a 5am bus whose headlights carved like beacons through the white. Surely, almost translucent there in the grey morning half-light, I would see a pair of ragged siblings climb onboard the rumbling vehicle, the eldest waving their tickets like a paper fan towards the unimpressed driver. Surely, if I was lucky, I could pull them back, could tell them with certainty what I knew now: that they should have turned themselves in to the police.

Yet I was finished with ghosts as I instead made a right turn, moving steadily away from the bus shelter and it's almost forgotten past. World still encased in static, mind numb with the haze that kept the grief at bay, I walked with my head held high towards a large and imposing rectangular building, it's facade gridded with opaque windows. They felt like a hundred eyes glaring down at me as I walked towards the sliding doors of the entryway, tilting my head upwards to read the navy sign that glowed above the door.

Brighton Police Station.

_This is for you, Lou._

Down the short hall lit by cold white fluorescents, my bare feet muted on the linoleum floor as I kept my sights trained on the woman waiting behind the glass-screened reception desk like looking down the barrel of a gun. The agony of my heartbeat becoming a shuddering a disjointed rhythm, then my mouth opening to beat my own fear to the punchline.

"I need to report a crime."

The narrow-faced woman blinked at my abruptness for a brief moment before readying her hands on her computer keyboard and answering in a clipped tone, "Alright, and what crime would that be? "

"Drug-trafficking and supply, specifically of heroin."

The bored look in the woman's icy blue eyes faded as she studied me with sudden interest, her fingers typing quickly before going still once more.

"Can you identify the perpetrator or perpetrators of this crime? Any names, physical descriptions, or knowledge of whereabouts?" She asked, and I met her gaze flatly as I answered in the same emotionless voice as before.

"Yes, one of them is me," I began, pausing for a moment to swallow past the dry lump lodged in my throat before clarifying to the woman, "My name is Sloane McLeod. Since I was nine years old, my brother and I have been directly involved with the East Sussex drug syndicate run by a man known as James DeWitt."

The woman gaped at me in shock, before jolting into action, typing furiously even as she pressed a button on the base of the intercom microphone that sat black and daunting on the desktop.

"Could I get an officer into reception please?"

I smirked at the slightly strained note in her voice as she tried to remain on top of things despite the fact my revelation had clearly thrown her.

_Probably the first time she's ever had a drug dealer willingly hand themselves in._

"Anyway, please put on the notes that I have plenty of information to share about DeWitt's organisation and some other members names," I added brightly, fixing her with a shit-eating grin as I pointed to one of the empty waiting room chairs, "I'll just take a seat and wait, shall I?"

"Er, yes, thank you," The receptionist managed to cough out, fingers flying over the keyboard as she copied down the information.

My faint amusement was short-lived however, a policeman emerging from a security door adjacent the reception desk almost as soon as I'd sat down, marching self-importantly to the woman behind the desk and conferring with her quietly. I sized him up from afar, watching at how his thick ham-hock arms were almost bursting the seams of his uniform shirt, corded with tendons and muscle as he took a printed piece of paper from the receptionist, reading it quickly. When he turned to face me his face was block-like, jaw square and clean shaven, with narrowed eyes set deep in the sockets of his skull.

"I'm going to need you to come with me, Miss," He intoned, beckoning me as he punched a security code into the door he had come through.

I expected him to grab me by the arm and manhandle me down the long hallway behind, but instead he merely walked beside and a fraction of a step behind me, directing me to the third door on the left and following me inside.  
                Within the room was a table bolted to the floor, with a chair placed either side that were fixed in place by a short chain. Blue felt soundproofing covered the walls, and a security camera was fixed high in the back corner. The officer motioned to the seat farthest from the wall, watching me sit down before taking a seat across from me and placing the printout on the tabletop, the door firmly shut. My gaze flicked between his stern face and the second security camera perched on the wall behind him as I waited for the man to speak.

"Now, it's quite the claim you've just made about yourself, Missy," The officer began, gesturing to the paper he'd received from the woman at the front desk before continuing, "So before we start I'm just going to have to ask to see some ID."

For a moment I stared at him blankly, incredulous at the question, before I shook my head slowly and murmured, "I don't have any. I don't have my wallet."

"Mmm, right," The man paused, before sighing and asking tiredly, "Which hand do you write with?"

He proceeded to handcuff my left wrist to the table leg after I answered with a perplexed "right", before getting up and leaving the room without so much as a backward glance. A distant kind of shock rattled through me as I sat alone and waited, although for what exactly I wasn't quite sure.

_I can't believe these are the dumb radges who had us fleeing to Eastbourne all those years ago._

The officer they sent next into the room was a tall and waspish woman, silently staring me down as she placed a large beige envelope on the table between us with a soft thump. I watched her hands instead of her face, tracing the neatly clipped edges as they paused atop the file, just beneath a neatly printed name.

Louis McLeod.

My jaw clenched as I read it upside down, my heartbeat a wounded raw thing within my chest. When I finally met the officer's gaze, I saw she'd been watching my reaction closely. Her thin brows arched ever so slightly, before she opened the file, pulling out a stack of papers from it. They were shuffled, then a pair of photos were slid across the table towards me.

"Do you know who this is?" She asked, tapping one blunt nail against the left image, pushing it closer to me. I rolled my eyes at her, dragging the photo out from under her pointing finger with my single free hand to inspect it.

The breath was sucked from my lungs in a sharp exhalation as I found myself looking at a snapshot of Lou taken from his driving license card, something he'd never renewed after it expired. The image was old, depicting him as he'd been at nineteen when he first got his full license. I felt a lump grow in my throat as I gazed in wonder at the boy from before the heroin; a cheeky pale kid with a freshly buzzed head and his wide mouth curving ever so slightly in the left corner.

Stroking my thumb across the image, I answered the question in a murmur, "Of course; he's Lou. He's my brother."

"Alright, and who is this?" The woman prompted briskly, pushing the other photo over to me as I tried to tear my eyes away from my brother's young and smirking face. Picking the next one up, my gaze fell on it for only a moment before I felt a jolt run through me, my heart slamming hard against the cage of my ribs.

It was an image of the  _Quick-Shot Clown Pop_  booth at a distance, only a few of the usual over-sized plushes hanging from the hooks beneath the rooftop. I could see my younger self standing in front of the kiosk window, smiling wide with glowing pink cheeks as I grinned up at the boy I was passing a prize toy to from the box on the bench-top. He was tall and lanky, one long arm still holding on to the large Bugs Bunny plush he had just hung up, the other reaching for the one I held out to him. Scruffy blue hair hanging from his head, his face in profile so I could clearly see the small dip before the snubbed end of his nose. The camera had caught him mid-laugh, and his black eyes were crinkled at the corners, his mouth open enough that you could see his gold crown flashing in the sunlight.

"Stu."

His name came out broken from between my lips, not much more than a whisper as I felt the white noise begin to creep back into my mind, the static starting to drift across my vision as I stared at the boy I had been trying so hard not to remember. In sudden vivid recollection I could see it all; the carnival and its colours, the smell of popcorn and burning sugar from the fairy floss machine, the sounds of children laughing.

_No, please, I can't bear it._

I bit into my lip hard, unwilling even as I stared blindly into the dream of my younger self running down the grass boulevard, glancing around wildly in a search for Lou. It was like watching history playing out across my vision, a memory too removed to mention, except this time I run past  _The Switchback Ride_  without bumping into its ticket collector; without falling with and falling into a blue haired boy. He isn't there. Just me running past and away into a different future.

_How different our lives would have been._

Heart thudding ever painfully in my chest, I waited for tears that didn't come as I covered his photographic form with my palm, lips still forming the whisper of his name even whilst the policewoman sighed irritably.

"No, not the man," She snapped, snatching the photo from between my trembling fingers and tapping her nail on the younger Sloane, "This one. Who is this?"

I clenched my teeth, swallowing my sudden flare of anger as I responded flatly, "That's me. Clearly."

"But what is the name of this person?" The woman pressed, tapping the photo again.

"Sloane. McLeod," I growled, frustrated by her banal line of questioning. The officer maintained her disdainful expression as she stared me down.

"Which is who you are claiming to be?"

My mouth fell open as I looked at her incredulously, furious at the simple fact of having handed myself over to the law only to have some some fox-faced policewoman dispute my identity.

"I  _am_  Sloane McLeod, and every shitty thing that comes with that title," I scoffed, leaning back in my seat as I gestured to the security camera and addressed it as if appealing to a higher power, "If you got any files on me at all then you'd know that no one would willingly step in to take my identity and live this radge cunt of a life for me."

"We don't have many files on the McLeod sister at all actually," The officer informed me smoothly, holding up Lou's picture as she continued, "The main facts of this particular lead in the East Sussex cartel case are all on  _Louis_  McLeod, which is  _clearly_  yourreal identity."

_Jesus fucking wept I've been locked in a room with a moron._

"Look I get that I have a shaved head and all but come on, lady, don't be fucking daft," I exclaimed, my voice full of disbelief as I added, "That picture is over ten fucking years old!"

"There is no need to raise your voice, and please keep your language -"

"I'VE GOT TITS FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Unamused, the officer proceeded to press me for another three minutes about why I was lying about my identity, before the door swung open to reveal a new police officer standing short and heavyset in the opening. I barely had time to register her arrival before she spoke sharply, almost in a bark.

"That's enough, Vivian, I'll take it from here."

The waspish woman sitting in front of me bristled, pushing back her chair with a screech on the linoleum floor and standing to face her colleague. I took my opportunity to grab back the photos she had snatched away, swiftly folding them and sliding them into the back pocket of my jeans surreptitiously.

"This is not your department," Vivian was hissing quietly, "This is  _my_  suspect, this is a matter of  _organised crime_  and will be dealt with by  _my_  division."

"Take it up with the Chief Constable then, he's next door watching the live-feed," the other officer said dismissively, waving a hand towards the wall-mounted cameras before stepping into the tiny space and gesturing to the door wordlessly.

A beat of tense silence passed before Vivian finally nodded curtly and stalked through the doorway, closing it behind her. I watched her go with my brows slightly raised, a smirk twitching at the corners of my mouth.

"Sorry about all that, Miss McLeod," The newcomer said gently, taking her colleagues seat across from me as she continued, "But you've got the whole of Brighton Police in a bit of an uproar."

"... Er, why?" I managed to respond after a lengthy pause, confusion blooming within my already clouded mind. The policewoman smiled, her full lips painted a delicate blush colour as they parted to reveal her white teeth.

"East Sussex Drug Syndicate? We've been searching for an informant on that case for years, and now you show up on our doorstep to willingly give us the answers? Uncanny."

_I already like you much better than our mutual friend Vivian._

"I don't suppose you're going to ask me if I'm my brother?" I asked in a drawl, feeling the smirk that had been tugging at my mouth grow wider as I continued, "And compare me to a photo you have of him when he was nineteen?"

The policewoman laughed, shaking her head as she replied, "Oh no, definitely not. I'm much more interested in what you've got to tell me about yourself, your brother, and how the two of you got entangled in this mess."

I could feel the ache of Lou's absence as I sighed, looking down at the all too thin file they had on him as I wished once more that he could be here, jiggling his restless legs in a seat beside me as I searched for the words with which to begin.

_How did we end up here? The fairgrounds? The drug deal gone bad? Our mother being taken to jail?_

I swallowed the fear that had been creeping up past my numb haze, then began.

"I don't know who my dad was, but my mum was from the foot of Leith Walk, and when she moved over here to Brighton she almost immediately got up the stick, quit her uni degree and started selling heroin for a man named James DeWitt. I don't know how they met, but whoever introduced would have been doing her a bigger favour if they had just murdered her instead," I stated matter of factly, before leaning forward and stage-whispering to the officer, "Would have saved her the trouble of doing it to herself and her children over the years."

The policewoman frowned ever so slightly, before gesturing silently for me to continue, something which I had no trouble complying with. The words seemed to pour from me as I told her about growing up with DeWitt's shadowy presence calling my mum out of the house constantly, of needles being plunged into arms and legs and finally any vein that would do because they were all collapsing and my mum was collapsing in on herself until she became too careless, until she'd been caught. With a numb voice from too much grief to physically bear I told her about Lou quitting school to try and keep us afloat, of DeWitt's offer and my brother's desperate acceptance of his terms; of drug deals gone bad and the bashings he'd received until I was old enough to come along, to keep watch and look out for him in silence. The Mute McLeod, standing sentry over the Motormouth, for always and forever until the skag and the assault and the blue haired boy who'd come to my rescue when it should have been Lou. The terrible night out in Eastbourne when I'd almost been taken into custody by the undercover police, and the next day when we'd run away and kept running and kept running and as I told the officer all the separate threads of story that had become the tangled mess of our lives I felt the heavy weight of each heartbeat begin to lift just ever so slightly. Just to have someone know, to have anyone in the world know that I would never forgive the world for taking Lou from me. Never. It was a cruelty matched only by the jamming of a lift, by a gap made large enough only to hold a man's hand whilst I told him he was going to die.

I gave her all the details I knew of the members and methods of contact of DeWitt's organisation, including the location of the Crawley apartment where Lou's burner phone was hidden, containing only one contact: DeWitt's personal number. I tried not to wonder if anyone had found his body yet, or if DeWitt's thugs had discovered and disposed of it already. The thought made me shudder.

When I was finished both the policewoman and I looked dazed, meeting each other's gaze across the table as she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm so sorry, Sloane."

My eyes remained dry as I looked at her flatly, my voice barely audible as I murmured, "Don't be; just find DeWitt and make him sorry he ever meddled with my family."

The woman nodded resolutely, before her round face set in a carefully blank expression and she asked in a forcefully light tone, "Oh and one final question, when would you say you last performed or were directly involved in drug dealing?"

_A more easy version of this question would be: how many years are you going to prison for, Sloane McLeod?_

My jaw set as I readied myself for life behind bars, breathing deeply through my nose before answering with all the condemning honesty I had left.

"I can say with certainty I have not dealt illicit substances for over five years now."

The officer paused, nodding slowly as she considered my response for a long moment. Then her countenance shifted, turning back into the gentle demeanour she'd displayed throughout my lengthy confession.

"What made you stop?" She asked softly, genuine intrigue filtering through her voice. I frowned, unprepared for the question and feeling my heart begin to ache as it remembered what I was unwilling to; the blue haired boy holding me close to him on the gravel of the trailer park driveway, begging me to walk away from life as I had known it.

And I had, to whatever end it left us with.

"Someone I loved asked me to."

The woman nodded sagely, shuffling the papers within Lou's file before bringing out a document and reading it over carefully. I watched her face while I waited for her to finish, my wrist beginning to ache from where the edge of the handcuff pressed against it. When she finally looked back up at me her face was impassive, the paper lowering to the flat of the table until i could see what it was that she had been studying so intently: a xerox copy of my birth certificate.

"I can't tell if it's your lucky day or if it's an unlucky one, but you were a minor when you were last involved in your brother's crimes," The policewoman finally said, giving me a knowing look before continuing, "As such, you would need to be trialled in the Magistrates Court if you were to be arrested today, however, the Magistrates Court does not accept cases that are presented once six months have passed since the crime."

I blinked at her stupidly, uncomprehending as the corner of her mouth twitched as if she was holding back a smile.

"So you're walking free out of here today, Miss McLeod."

A breath I didn't realise I had been holding escaped my lips in a sigh of shocked relief at her words. Sinking back into the hard plastic chair, I let my eyes fall closed against the harsh fluorescent lights as I felt my pulse begin to calm.

The officer unlocked the handcuffs with a metallic click, and I murmured my thanks distractedly as I tried to envision the future now that it had so radically changed from how I'd foreseen it.

_All I have left is to live now._

The woman stood, silent for a moment as she shuffled documents back into Lou's file, before sighing and addressing me once more.

"Look, I understand it was dangerous for you to come here today," She murmured, looking pityingly at me as I stood waiting for her to release me, "Do you need to call someone to come pick you up?"

She was right; I knew it in every part of my being just how far I had thrown myself in the fire by betraying DeWitt, yet I couldn't let that fear stand in my way. I felt the three pieces of folded paper in my pocket, knowing only one of them was a path forward.

"Yeah, is there a phone I can use?"

 

———————

 

It was dark by the time I left the station; moon high overhead and the frigid wind in the trees causing them to whisper. For a moment I stood in the blue light of the glowing Police sign behind me, holding all my memories at arm's length and waiting for the lead of a bullet to pierce my skull, to take me to whatever godforsaken place my two beloved boys now resided.

_Enough now._

Grey eyes opening, then a march through the city with strangers becoming snakes in the grass and DeWitt's thugs seeming to haunt every one of my footsteps, down to the empty Marina pier. I walked to the very end of it, out to where someone should have been waiting for me. I didn't know whether I wanted them with shaved or blue hair, but in that moment all I wished was that anyone, anyone at all, would return to me.

Then, a hushed voice.

"Sloane?"

I turned and there she was; once-long red hair now cropped into a bob, but skin still pale as the moon, doe-like eyes filling with tears as they met mine.

Birdie.

There was nothing I could think to say, so instead I just held open my arms wide, the girl letting out a sob as she ran into them. I held onto her tightly, face buried in the crook of her neck whilst she wept into the peach fuzz of my hair, unable to speak.   
                 To an outsider we would have looked like a skinhead boy and a red-headed girl locked in loving embrace; a reunion with the McLeod sibling that we both knew should have been in my place. As I held her close, I wished for time to be remade and unwritten until it could have been my brother standing there with her. They deserved that, Birdie and Lou. I would undo it all, every moment that had led us to this place, if only so they could have the version of the world where beautiful, belligerent Lou McLeod had lived.

Perhaps in that world, 2D could have lived too. Maybe in that alternate reality we got to walk together out through the fire and the flood and I didn't have to stand here at the edge of it all knowing that half my heart had been devoured by a monster.

"What do you do," I asked Birdie softly, voice cracking with misery, "When all the people who saved your life are gone?"

Birdie pulled back, gaze solemn as she looked into mine.

"I think, Sloane, that's when you have to start saving yourself."

Slowly I nodded, closing my eyes as I finally allowed the grief to flow through me, remembering it all. Images flickered like strobe across the backs of my closed eyelids, fireworks in the dark. Inky black waves against the pink veneer of a plastic beach; sunlight across wet skin; a mouth of blood; a girl crying out as she plummets, her belongings shrapnel flying from the wound of her floating island; a Daffy Duck plushy propped at a booth table; a needle glinting in pale hands. Then his black eyes meeting mine, mouth the softest curve you could still call a smile. I see him standing across the room all golden-lit from behind, I see myself walking over to him, reaching out with a hand that isn't cautious, that isn't shy. In the dream I say "I love you" and my voice doesn't shake, the words don't sink all rickety and wrong into silence.

Here are my arms, lined with white and laid bare. Here are my hands, my heat, my heart. Here is what I always meant to give you:

the version of the world where our love could walk naked.


	23. Exitlude

 

 

 

 

 

 

_This here, an ending;_  
_we strode out together into the nightfall_  
_and let the darkness swallow us whole_  
_pressed our hands up against the patchwork of stars_  
_so that by midnight there were no lights_  
_with which to find our way, stumbling_  
_brave and bright through the ashes of a carnival_  
_we once together burned_  
_in a selfish search for one another_  
_I look back and see them all_  
_clowns and crows and circus dogs_  
_racing through the ruins we left behind_  
_trying to recall ever asking for you_  
_to kiss my hands, devour my heart; yet_  
_here I am with the memory of you_  
_burning as a ghost against my flesh_  
_And the knowledge, the bitter knowledge_  
_that this together was as far as we could go_  
_To The End Of The Fucking World_  
_only takes you so far_  
_I'm still waiting in the empty grandstand_  
_Big Top tent a moth-eaten mess_  
_falling to pieces around the shrapnel_  
_of every life we couldn't live together_  
_and when my hands come together_  
_for the applause, I never know_  
_if the trapeze act would have been so wonderful_  
_if it hadn't ended in the fall._

 

 

 

 

     

   


	24. 4.0

_Autumn, 2014_

Despite everything that had happened, the world was not a dead thing; I knew it within the marrow of my bones, the breath in my lungs.

Leaning against the countertop with my jaw resting propped up on my palm, I watched through the window as the bright noon sun turned the leaves of the trees outside to a brilliant vermillion. They shivered, red like blood as the ever-growing chill in the air pulled the life from them day by day.  
              Beyond was a view of the beach, the waves glittering the same blue as the sky as they rolled gently onto the pebbled shoreline. I felt an age-old anxiety flutter through my system as I watched the water from the cafe counter, fingers clenching tight in the fabric of my apron.

_Breathe. Breathe._

Straightening up, I turned my attention to a customer as they approached the till with a smile. They were a regular at  _The Coffee House_ , an old woman with flyaway white hair and a papery face that had been creased into a pattern of deep wrinkles. Her name was a firm and unchanging "Mrs Tillney", despite her husband passing away a few years ago, and she never failed to ask how I was. The calm returned as I found the receipt for her table number, reading her the total and focusing on her spindly hands as they shakily counted out a series of pound notes.

"How's that degree coming along?" Mrs Tillney asked in her no-nonsense clip, beaming at me as she added jokingly, "Surely you don't need that many qualifications to sit someone down in a chair and listen to them moan on about themselves?"

I laughed, shaking my head as I sorted the notes into the till with a lighthearted response, "I think they'd just like to make sure I can  _actually_  help someone before they give me a psychology degree."

"Helping people? Easy. Just make them one of your coffees; they always cheer me right up," The old woman chuckled, before dropping her change into the tip jar and turning with a wave, "Good luck with it, Sloane dear."

"Thank you, Mrs Tillney. See you later!"

The rest of the afternoon shift passed slowly, the sound of the sea drifting in through the door every time it opened with the customers' arrivals and departures. It usually wouldn't have brought me much discomfort, wouldn't have filtered past the feeling of my breath filling my lungs with each thud of my heart, yet today was not just any day.

It was a mourning day. A day for ghosts.

I could feel them in the air that played with the crimson foliage outside, that carried the sound of the ocean waves to me as I stood in wait for the final few patrons to leave the cafe so that I could close up for the day.

Since my return to Brighton all those years ago, I had become a girl without ghosts. I no longer carried them all on my shoulders, stacked high and heavy so that each step was a stumble; my ghosts had slowly faded away until it was  _me_  that had to go looking for  _them_. In abandoned warehouses we once did deals in, in bus shelters and train stations, fish and chip shops, even Brighton pier with my arms wrapped tightly around the neck of a pastel-coloured carousel horse as it ran forever in circles. But they were never there, only whispers of memories I slowly found harder to remember the details of as I began to let go of all those tiny fragments I'd been trying to piece them back together with.

It had been months until I had ended up back at the Marina Pier, still with the hope, the miserable hope that one of them would be waiting for me. Birdie had been there to answer my prayers the first time, so why not the others? It was not to be; the first night I returned it had been empty of anything and anyone tangible, and again the night after and the one after that.

For those following weeks, every evening after work I would find myself down at the pier, looking out across the dark waves that stretched forever onwards to the untouchable horizon. Some nights Birdie would join me, and together we would walk along the tideline, but other nights it would just be me alone and the sea, waiting for everyone I'd lost to wash up against the shore. The water would turn red as the sun sank bleeding beneath the surface, the sky darkening until I could finally almost see the indistinct shapes under the waves.

If I waited long enough, they'd finally emerge, dripping salt as they moved towards me.

Lou always first, mist and sea spray coalescing into the laughing boy he'd once been, running out towards me with his arms held out like the wings of a plane. He'd be calling my name, he'd be teasing the tears that slipped down my cheeks in sheer joy at the sight of him. On good nights he'd come stand beside me to wait for the others, the tide washing our bare feet.  
               I liked those nights best.

It'd be Murdoc next, smirking as he sauntered from the waves as if it were some brilliant joke that he should be one of my ghosts. I'd tell him how well the claw marks The Boogieman gave me had healed, how they'd faded into silver scars. If I was feeling brave I'd thank him for saving me back at the plastic beach, for giving up his own chance at escape without thought, without hesitation. The man would wave my gratitude away with a dismissive green hand in response, but I'd catch the flash of a smile before he turned away.  
              I always wanted to ask if he had drowned that terrible day, as the island had fallen to pieces around him, but never did. I didn't have the courage to ask.

Birdie could never see them, collecting around us in the gathering dusk. Lou would hover at our shoulders, kiss our foreheads; forever his two girls left aching at the injustice of his absence.

"What does he look like?" Birdie would ask, hushed as she closed her eyes to imagine what I saw.

"He looks like a scrawny bovver boy," I'd say, "He looks like Lou."

The last ghost always came late, shy from the water when he finally stepped onto the shore. Ocean dripping from blue hair, his head tipped down as he watched his own clumsy feet. The world hushed as I felt my lips form his name, never able to make the sound, yet he'd somehow hear. Black eyes lifting to meet mine, then that grin all gap-toothed and wide as he saw that I'd been waiting for him, even after all this time.

Stu, my Stu.

He'd be smiling, blue and pale in the half-light; an angel that never was.

"What took you so long?" I'd ask, face wet with tears as he stumbled towards me. He'd snicker as he came to stand a breath away, close enough to touch but forever out of reach.

"I got a bit lost on my way ta find you," He'd say, his voice the lilting rasp I loved so much.

It was like embracing a knife, seeing them all there; all my lost boys standing with me on the sand until the last piece of light had died out like a fading ember from the sky and I was just a girl standing alone. A girl who had always been standing alone.

_Stay here with me next time. Let's just let ourselves be happy together next time._

After a while I stopped visiting them as frequently, working on completing the necessary access courses to be able to get into university, working on living my life beyond the things that had happened to me. Grocery shopping with Birdie, proofreading chapters of the novel she was writing while the girl sat at the kitchen table tapping out a rhythm with her spoon in a bowl of ice cream. Closing shifts at the cafe and then going home to study despite the pull of the salty air down by the beach; learning how to remember to breathe and how to forgive myself, forgive Lou, forgive everyone. Seeing DeWitt walking out of court in handcuffs on the evening news and dancing around the living room with Birdie, laughing and yelling and knowing somehow Lou was there joyously spitting profanities at the man onscreen along with us.

The world had not ended, even on the days when a fragment of a song playing on a passing car's radio or in a bar made me stop dead in my tracks, made me choke at the sound of 2D's drawling vocals as I remembered recording booths and bloodied noses and a song he had written me that I was never going to hear. It was agony but one day it wouldn't be, that's what Birdie told me anyway.

The reverie violently pulled away from me as I caught a flash of azure blue passing by the glass door, my head turning in a jerking motion to follow the vivid colour only to see nothing but the distant ocean flickering in the sun.

_Wishful thinking._

I shook my head to clear it of the memory-fuelled daydream, yet my heart kept beating hard against my sternum as I felt an age-old ache flaring within my veins. Digging into my wallet, I reached beneath my ID card and pulled out a well worn fold of paper, feeling it thick between my fingers as I slowly opened it up. The note had been one of two photos I had stolen out of my brother's file at the police station, crumpled and faded from years of handling and friction inside my wallet. The picture of Lou was hanging in a frame in the living room back at the house Birdie and I shared; young faced and brave, much too brave. Yet this other photo I had kept to myself, carrying it with me like some kind of lucky talisman, like some kind of undeniable proof that despite how quickly the world seemed to have forgotten, there had been a boy. A blue-haired, headache and accident prone boy, with a smile like sunshine.

_We were. Meant to be. Forever ago. There's a version of the world where I unmake every bad decision ever made and there's a place in that world where we walk holding hands and kissing knuckles._

My smile was rueful as I carefully folded the photo back up and slipped it away, blinking fast against the prickling sensation in my eyes.

_I envy them, but they're not us. I want to live there, but I know I wouldn't be me._

The last customers paid and left, and I counted the money in the till whilst the other waitress wiped the tables clean and began stacking the chairs for when the cleaner would arrive later to mop the floors. I was halfway through when I felt my phone buzzing in my jeans pocket, immediately making me lose my count as I reached for it with a tired sigh.

"Birdie, if this is about the neighbour's cat shitting on the doorstep again then -" I began to speak into the receiver as soon as I accepted the call, but her excited rambling cut me off as she talked over the top of my drawling remark.

"Slo! Slo! Mark just called me to ask me out for dinner," She squeaked through the tinny speaker, her words surging out in a big rush, "And I really have no idea what to wear for a first date and - what?  _No_ , this has nothing to do with cat shit what is  _wrong_  with you?? - anyway, do you think I can get away with wearing a maxi dress to cover up the fact I'm not wearing shoes?"

My brain took a few seconds to process the information she had just presented me with as I began to laugh in surprise at the question. It was about time her colleague at the publishing company had plucked up the courage to ask her out.

"I think you might have to wear shoes," I said with a smile, tallying the cash on the back of a receipt as I continued, "If only so you have something hard with which to kick him in the balls if he turns out to be a serial killer."

Birdie burst out laughing, the sound light and breathy even through the warped phone speaker. I smiled softly as she chided me for always suspecting the worst of people, but my mind was elsewhere, wandering with the wind in the trees outside.  
                 It was nice Birdie was finally allowing someone into her life after losing Lou, and I was happy for her, yet there was something sad about it as well. As if the last few remaining echoes of his presence in the world were fading from us, were becoming too soft to hear amongst the choir of living things.

"Serial killers aside, I hope you have a lovely time," I told her earnestly, carefully keeping the sorrow from my voice.

She must have heard it anyway, must have felt it too herself as she replied gently, "I'll try, I really will. For both of us."

I blinked back tears, awkwardly waving to the waitress and kitchen staff as they left for the day, leaving only me left in the suddenly achingly silent space. I wanted to answer her but couldn't find the words, and yet because she was Birdie she knew all the things my silence meant.

"I don't know much about ghosts, Slo," She murmured, her voice tender and raw, "But I do know that they don't begrudge the living."

_No; it is the living that begrudge the dead._

"I know," I sighed, before laughing as I added with a smirk, "Plus, we both know that if Lou were here he'd be in hysterics over the fact you haven't got laid in about six years."

"Oh my god,  _shhhhhh_."

I laughed again as she made a loud "hmph" noise in mock outrage, before she sobered once more.

"I'll see you when I get back, will you be okay on your own tonight?" She asked tentatively, genuine concern in her voice.

"Birdie I'm twenty-nine years old; I'm borderline geriatric," I scoffed, locking the till with a metallic click.

"Meaning... you want me to hire an aged-carer for you?"

" _Meaning_  I can stay home by myself!" I exclaimed in exasperation, grinning as she giggled at my reaction to her jibe.

_A little bit of Lou lives on in us all._

Pulling off my apron, I wished her luck as I made my way to the door, assuring her I'd be fine one final time as she began to fret once more.

"I'll just be typing up more of my thesis paper and watching really bad reality tv," I said airily, keeping my voice light as I added, "It's due in a month after all, and I need to pass if I want to specialise in Psychology of Addiction."

"Then you graduate and can start saving the world, right?" Birdie teased gently, and I laughed before the sorrow crept back up and over the hills of my being.

_Not the world; just someone's brother, someone's mother._

"I don't know about that, but I'll at least be able to diagnose whether or not Mark wants to wear you as a skin suit," I jibed back, listening to her responding exclamation of mock-offence with a smile before we said our goodbyes.

Locking the door behind me, I pocketed my work keys and shivered in the Autumn wind that pulled at my hair. The long dark locks strained to be free of the elastic I had held them back with for work, a few loose strands floating around my face as I tugged on my jacket. Fisting my hands deep in the pockets, I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning against the sun-warmed glass door and breathing deeply for the first time since catching sight of the flash of blue earlier.

_It's okay to miss them, it is, it truly is._

The thesis paper could wait, I decided, pushing off the door and setting out towards the shore I could see glimmering across the busy seaside road. Brighton Palace Pier was already beginning to sparkle with electric carnival lights, their globes the same gold as the sun dipping in it's descent towards the horizon. The few scattered clouds that interrupted the clear sky were lined with a soft pink, whilst the ocean itself was being leeched of it's friendly blue, returning once more to a deep navy as the light dimmed. The last few people swimming despite the Autumn chill were leaving as I stepped onto the beach, hearing pebbles and sand crunch beneath my boots as I walked directly towards what they were leaving; dark water, too cold and opaque now to feel safe in.   
                I wanted to tell them there were darker oceans in the world, ones so black and deep that to fall in is to forget the sky itself, but I instead began to wander along the shoreline with the sound of gulls crying as they flew above the waves.

Before I passed beneath the Brighton Palace Pier, it's boardwalk a busy mass of bustling crowds, I stopped to gaze up at the colours and the lights with nostalgia bittersweet across my tongue. I searched the fair-goers for the young couples walking hand in hand towards the music and laughter, smiling to myself at the girls clutching their lover's hands like they didn't know how to let go. For a moment I thought I caught sight of a man moving lanky and clumsy through the crowd, his blue hair flopping about his face as he searched for someone in vain, but the mob's movement rippled and obscured him too quickly to be sure it wasn't a daydream, to be sure it wasn't a trick of the sun.

_This is harder today for some reason. I'm convincing myself I see him everywhere._

The breeze off the ocean tugged at my hair as I passed under the boardwalk and onto the other side, and I yanked the elastic that held it back so that it could blow free in dark waves around my face and down my spine. Like a wild thing I wanted to run down the beach in the setting sun, throw stones at seagulls and then walk out into the water and keep walking and keep walking, until I was miles from here way down at the very bottom of everything.

_Breathe, just breathe._

The salt-laden air was thick as it entered my lungs, walking with the lights of the pier behind me and my shoulders setting hard as I imagined I heard my name being called, just as I did every time I found myself beside the crashing waves on the shore. Wind, water, both of them were liars I had found, and as I strode off towards the distant Marina I did not turn around to see if anyone were there; I had no room in my heart for the constant disappointment of an empty beach.

I heard the sound again, and I quickened my pace, then broke into a run as I tried to flee the memories that nipped at my heels; of rumpled bedsheets and bruises on chins, of clashing teeth and the taste of his laugh in my mouth. The sound of my boots landing heavily against the pebbled shore seemingly had a twin echo as I sprinted away from all thought, all feeling, until all I knew was the sensation of my legs burning and the salty wind stinging against my face. To the break-wall, to the Marina pier, only slowing down when I got within a few meters of the stone steps that led up onto it, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

I halted at the base, staring at the first step and finding that I wasn't sure if I wanted to climb them. Above would be the long jetty that reached out to pierce the water, with fishermen casting their lines out into the depths to pull out silver thrashing fish yet no one waiting for me at the end of it, no one calling to me over the wind and the crash of the waves against the structure.

Closing my eyes, I imagined Birdie on her date, her red hair tickling the tops of her shoulders as she laughed breathily at something Mark had said. I thought of the way he'd be looking at her like she was an angel and how he'd be right.  
                   I was sure one day I would be in the same position, sitting at a dinner table with someone and letting myself fall in love all over again, yet as I stood there with the sun warm against my back I couldn't envision it, couldn't form the image in my mind.

_In a dream I held your hand and we walked together like grown people; in a dream you are twenty-five again and I don't know the taste of your mouth._

I could feel the swollen lump of unshed tears clog my throat as I brought my hands up to my face, covering my burning eyes with my palms as I bit back a sob. Grief welled up from wherever the passage of time had slowly hidden it away, and it'd been so long since I'd felt like this that I no longer knew exactly how to stop the tears when they slipped from between my closed lids and trailed warm down my cheeks.

There was the rattle of pebbles scattering under light footfalls behind me, and I tensed, facing away from the stranger as I wordlessly moved so as to not block their passage up the stairs. The footsteps grew nearer, then stopped a few meters away.

There was silence, then a sound I had yearned for longer than I wished to remember.

"Sloane?"

My name like a lilting song, slipping from between lips in a rasp. My heart thudded hard in my chest as I lowered my hands from my tear-blotched face, turning in disbelief.

I should have been able to see the sun drowning itself in the far off end of the ocean, but there was someone standing in the way. Their tall and slightly slouched frame blocked the glare of the sunset, an orange halo blurring the edges of their form as I blinked into the brightness.

My gaze traced the gangly lengths of their legs, up to a slim chest and nervously rounded shoulders. Heartbeat across tongue, I could almost taste the moment it skipped as I saw a flash of gap-filled teeth, his mouth open in wonder as he gazed at me with those entirely black eyes of his, as he made the breath catch in my throat.

_A ghost._

"Sloane?" 2D asked again, taking a small half-step forward whilst I could only stare in disbelief, my heart beating hard as I listened to the beautiful rasp of his voice. He looked uncertain, fingers fidgeting together as he made no further move forward.

"You can't be real," I breathed, eyes stinging as I blinked away tears, "Not after all this time."

He cringed bashfully, rubbing the spiky blue hair at the crown of his head as he mumbled, "I know; I took too long ta get here, an' then I took too long ta find you today."

"Find me...?" I repeated dumbly, staring at the vision of him before me with suddenly no certainty I was awake.

"Yeah well, Murdoc had this note he said he'd kept fa you, an' he used it ta track you down," The surely imaginary man told me in a clumsy rush, squinting one eye at me as he added sagely, "Come ta fink of it, it's all a bit creepy actually."

_The note... the note I gave Murdoc at Plastic Beach?_

"An' he said you'd moved ta Brighton an' you worked in this cafe by the beach but then I got too scared ta come in when I got there an' I was too slow ta catch you when you left an' then I was even slower tryin' ta run after you -"

"You're not slow," I cut him off instinctively, still in a daze, and he stopped rambling to fix me with a tender smile, black eyes half-lidded as he gazed across the distance between us.

"But I  _am_  slow, Sloane," He whispered, shaking his head sadly as he hugged his all-too thin arms to himself, "I was too slow in the head ta figure out how ta escape the whale when it swallowed me, an' then I was too slow ta figure out where I was in the world when it's carcass washed up at shore. I couldn't fink of a way ta find my bandmates until they made the effort ta find me, an' then I was too slow ta make it here ta find you."

I gaped at him, wondering how it was that the strangely solid ghost had so much to say. My pulse began to race as I took in the emaciated shape of him, the frown lines that his years of habitual scowling had etched across his forehead, suddenly unsure in my disbelief as he sighed and continued his rambling.

"The worst fing is that I was too slow ta realise how I felt about you until I was havin' ta say goodbye an' fink it was forever, an' yet even now I'm stalling and fumblin' fa the words I wanna say when I should have just told you every day from the first moment you knocked me off my feet that... that you're my favourite person and, well, I  _love you._ "

2D stood with his arms nervously folded, large hands holding his elbows as he took a deep breath and waited for me to speak. In the growing silence I watched his brows knit together in vulnerable distress, traced the tremble of his lips. It was a kind of self-conscious discomfort I had never known a ghost to have, that I would never have conjured up in my imagined version of the blue haired man, and I felt the air leave my lungs in a sharp exhalation as the dawn broke through the dark of my mind.

_Stu?_

I moved forward, reaching out to cup his warm cheek in my hand and feeling him lean into the touch, black eyes closing as his own much larger hand came up to rest against mine. 

You can't touch ghosts.

A smile spread across my face as I found my voice, tears of utter joy streaming down my cheeks as I finally found the only words I had to say.

"I love you too."

And I stepped into the waiting curve of his arms, breathing him in as I pulled him close, all the things we could have said but no longer needed to dancing in the air around us. I could feel the life in him, could feel his sigh of relief in my hair as he rested his chin on the crown of my head.   
                   It was the warmest embrace I had ever known, the sunlight kissing our skin as I felt his arms tight around me.

"I feel like I've been having this dream since forever," I murmured into his shirt, my lips wet with tears as they moved against the soft cotton.

"This ain't a dream, Low Slow."

At his smirk-fuelled words I grinned, nodding slowly against the beat of his steady heart.

"You're right; in a dream you would smell a little less like dirty hair," I teased softly, chest alight with joy as he snickered in my ear.

"Fuck you too, Sloane."

He was alive and warm as I pulled back to see his wide grin, no longer a ghost as he met my gaze with half-lidded eyes.

"You're really here," I rasped, tears dried on my cheeks as he ruffled my hair, one eye closed in a squint as if looking into the sun.

"I'm staying this time too," He promised, fingers tracing the small of my back, stroking along the sharp edge of my shoulder blade.

I knew he meant it, within my blood, my bones; everything vital and golden-lit inside me as I smiled up at him in the small soft pause of held breath before I kissed him - just to make sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ An end ~
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stuck with Sloane and I, and a very special thank you to everyone who commented and supported me throughout writing - you're all angels.
> 
> To anyone confused about the title of this fic, [one reason being this song,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USom8PhOXgs) I just wanted to say that although 2D is the one who calls Sloane the Trapeze Swinger, when he then tells her that she has to let go to be able to fly he's only half right. A trapeze act is a performance of two people (or more) repeatedly swinging between two states, coming together with their fellow performer only to then swing away and separate, something which the two of them do often throughout their lives.  
> Of course, the reader always gets to decide what an ending means for themselves, but I would just like to say this before I sign off: when it comes to whether or not our two Trapeze Swingers can stick together this time, I'd like to think that they keep holding hands after the final bow.
> 
> Take care, big love,  
> Lily (gremlinteeth)


End file.
